


What She Wants

by olivejuice28



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coworkers to friends, EWE, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, HEA, Mutual Pining, Pining, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:16:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 45,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24777508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivejuice28/pseuds/olivejuice28
Summary: We are often our own worst enemy. A short story in three parts. Based very loosely on the country song "I Get To Be What She Wants Tonight," by Luke Bryan
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom/Hannah Abbott, Theo Nott/Luna Lovegood, past Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger
Comments: 26
Kudos: 152





	1. The Beginning

“Oh, that’s too bad,” the newspaper ruffled as Narcissa angled it to read the article more clearly.

Knowing she expected some sort of response, regardless of his lack of interest in the latest society gossip, he played along, “What’s too bad, Mother?” His tone was pleasant, but his attention wholly focused on the crumpet he was currently slathering with blackberry jam.

“They’ve broken off their engagement,” her murmured reply showed that she was fully engrossed in the story now.

Still not caring, Draco hummed in a noncommittal sort of way as he brought the preserve-laden breakfast cake to his mouth, preparing to take a bite when the next bit of news was shared.

“The Granger girl. She’s called off the wedding to the youngest Weasley boy.”

The crumpet fell, jam-side-down on the leg of his perfectly creased trousers while his hand remained frozen in mid-air and his jaw dropped like a gaping fish. He sat there, stunned and trying to wrap his mind around this seemingly-inconsequential bombshell, which is how his mother found him when she snapped the morning’s edition of the _Prophet_ closed with a flourish and fixed her son with a piercing stare.

“So, she’s single now,” a calculating look spread across her elegant features and she bit the inside of her cheek to hide the smile tugging at her lips. Her son looked completely gobsmacked, and though he would deny it vehemently, she knew exactly why. Getting him to admit it, however, would take nothing short of a miracle.

Finally, after a very pronounced bit of silence, Draco blinked and met the pair of glittering blue eyes across the table. He blinked again and was met with the uncomfortable feeling of something sticky leaking through his pant leg and looked down to find both his breakfast and his attire ruined. He picked up the soggy crumpet and dropped it on his plate with a squelching _splat_ and a disgusted flick of his wrist, trying valiantly to appear nothing more than annoyed by the mess, though his insides were having a field day with the information that had just been imparted.

Schooling his features into what he hoped was an aloof and unaffected mask, he arched a brow as he met Narcissa’s gaze.

“Unsurprising,” he deadpanned.

The Malfoy matriarch raised her own perfectly-sculpted eyebrows in response to this singularly insufficient reply, wondering just how deep the hole of denial was that her son had dug for himself in regards to this particular topic. Draco turned his attention back to his trousers, casting an _Evanesco,_ followed by a _Scourgify_ before heaving a deep sigh and starting process of topping another crumpet. To the casual observer, the young man might seem completely at ease and unbothered by anything beyond the scope of how thick the layer of blackberry preserves needed to be, but she knew better.

The muscle working in his jaw was a dead giveaway that he was tense, and the bouncing of his knee (which he thought he was hiding under the tablecloth) was another indicator that all was not calm beneath the surface. However, it was the rapid blinking of his slate-grey eyes that showed just how affected he was. She could almost hear this thoughts whirring in his head and was wondering exactly how to instigate a conversation about this staunchly-avoided subject when their House Elf appeared at her side.

“A letter, Mistress,” the tiny creature squeaked, holding up a small silver tray bearing a cream-colored envelope.

“Thank you, Merry,” Narcissa replied, plucking the missive from the platter and nodding to the elf who disappeared with a _pop_. Glancing once more at her son, who was now chewing oversized bites of breakfast pastry with furious deliberation while staring off into the middle distance, she directed her attention to the correspondence in her hand. It was actually addressed to both her and Draco, and carried the Ministry’s wax seal on the back. Curious, she opened it carefully and slid out a single sheet of matching paper, covered with swirling black script.

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Cordially invites you to join in an evening of celebration._

_Friday, September 16, 2003_

_Seven o’clock in the evening in the Great Hall_

_Cocktails and hors d’oeuvres will begin at six, dancing will commence at eight-thirty._

_Please reply to Penelope Clearwater-Weasley, Assistant to the Headmistress._

_Dress is formal._

“Well, that’s lovely,” Narcissa smiled and let out a pleased huff. In the five years that had passed since the war, she had done everything she could – everything she’d been allowed to do – to help with reparations. The Malfoy vaults had been drastically reduced by repeated withdrawals for numerous charities, restoration projects, and donations of a myriad of supplies ranging from school materials to potions ingredients to food items for those working to rebuild various parts of Wizarding Britain. Only within the last year or so had she truly started to feel like she could hold her head high and be confident in her place in the world again, and the invitation in her hand solidified that.

The upcoming gala was being held in honor of the five-year anniversary of the reopening of Hogwarts, after drastic renovations and much-needed repairs had taken place throughout the summer following the Battle. Even from her confinement under house arrest, Narcissa had been able to assist not only financially, but also by gifting hundreds of books and valuable pieces of artwork to the ancient school. She’d even cleared out entire rooms of furniture, sending the ornate pieces to the castle so the staff could have newer, nicer apartments. As far as she was concerned, the Manor and all its contents could burn to the ground, so long as it took its history of blood prejudice, dark magic, and twisted ideals with it. The only good to ever come out of the ancestral estate was her son; her brilliant, handsome, ridiculously stubborn, too-prideful-for-his-own-good son. She tried again.

“Perhaps Miss Granger would like an escort for the evening.”

Draco snorted indelicately, “While I’m sure she would, I’m quite positive she’d want to go with one of her friends, of which, I am not.”

“Oh don’t be silly. You work together often enough to be at the very least acquaintances these days. I’m sure she’d...”

“I’m not going to ask her, Mother. She just ended a five-year relationship with the man she intended to marry. Whatever happened, I assure you, the last thing she would want is to be stuck spending her night making awkward small talk with someone she politely tolerates.” He stood then, tossed his napkin on the table and nodded firmly at his mother, indicating the conversation was over and he was taking his leave, before turning on his heel and striding out the door.

Narcissa remained where she was, staring contemplatively after her son who, for all his notable intelligence and multiple talents, could really be quite obtuse at times. She sighed deeply, knowing it was useless trying to force Draco to do anything, and simply resolved to see if there wasn’t something she could do to help spur things along for him and the witch he’d harbored feelings for since the day he’d met her twelve years ago. No one complains _that_ much about a person’s appearance or habits or abilities unless there’s something deeper brewing. She allowed herself the tiniest of smiles as she picked the _Prophet_ back up and continued to enjoy her morning tea.

ooOoo

Arriving at his office a short while later, Draco had barely begun his routine overview of the day’s tasks before him when a light knock sounded on his partially-open door and a familiar head of wavy brown hair appeared.

“Theo,” his brows rose in mild surprise, “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence so early in the day? You’re usually not even awake until noon.”

Theo smirked as he flung himself gracefully into the chair across from Draco, propping his wing tip clad feet on the desk, earning himself a disapproving glare, which only caused his smug expression to widen.

“I had to come down straight away, soon as I heard,” he gestured vaguely into the air around him, continuing his rapid-fire monologue. “Figured we could get the ball rolling. Sort out a plan. Maybe not this weekend, since it’s already Thursday, but definitely by end of next week.”

Draco simply stared at his childhood friend, having absolutely no idea what he was talking about. His bemusement must have been abundantly clear on his face, since Theo cocked his head and pinned him with an expectant look, waiting for him to catch on.

“I’m sorry, to what plan are you referring?” Draco finally gave in and asked, knowing it was the only way to move the dramatics along.

The lanky brunette rolled his eyes and sighed with great exasperation, “The plan to get things going with your long-time crush. Operation Gryffindor Princess. The Golden Girl Crusade. The Heroine Heist. The...”

Realization dawned and he held a hand up to stop Theo’s rambling, “That’s quite enough of that. I don’t know what egregiously misguided impression you are under, but I have no intentions whatsoever towards Hermione Granger.”

Theo glared at him, “Right. And I’m McGonagall’s illegitimate love child.” He shifted abruptly, planting his feet firmly back on the floor and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on the Malfoy heir.

“It’s been _years_ , mate. You were miserable about her at school, and of course your father,” he waved his hand dismissively and grimaced, “But he’s out of the picture now, and she spoke at your trial, and I _know_ you’ve definitely fancied her since then. For five years you’ve stood by and waited for Weasley to do something moronic enough for her to ditch him. Well, he finally did and now she has!” He sat back and spread his hands wide in front of him as if displaying the obvious facts of the situation.

Draco shook his head, simultaneously amused by his fellow former-Slytherin’s antics and frustrated by the insistence of his tone. Theo didn’t know, didn’t understand. But before he could even begin formulating the words to explain things he’d really rather not, another knock sounded on his door and a second familiar face appeared.

“Blaise!” Theo exclaimed with gleeful invitation, waving the dark-skinned wizard into the room and pointing at the other empty chair he was obviously expected to occupy.

Blaise grinned at Theo as he poured himself into the seat with fluid ease, before turning his attention to the room’s original occupant who was eyeing the pair of them with growing concern.

“Did you two plan to meet up in my office?” he asked wryly, thinking there was no way this was a coincidence. His assumption proved correct as identical Cheshire cat grins appeared on both faces across from him, causing him to stifle a groan as he forced himself to breathe evenly and remain calm. He knew from almost two decades of friendship that the more he showed his frustration or annoyance, the further under his skin they would dig. In an attempt to appear undeterred by their presence, Draco shuffled some papers around on his desk, made a show of looking for something in his drawers, and simply hoped they’d get tired of his refusal to play along. He should have known better.

“I do believe he’s ignoring us,” Blaise muttered loud enough for Draco to clearly hear him as he leaned conspiratorially towards Theo.

“Mmmm, I think you’re right. Good thing we don’t really need his input then, yeah?”

“Absolutely. So, I was thinking, the Five Year Anniversary Gala is coming up. We should make sure she’s planning to go.”

“I’m sure she is. It’s probably expected, part of her job as a war heroine and all that.”

“True. So if she’s to go, she’ll need a date. How sad would it be for the Wizarding World’s Sweetheart to be there alone? Especially after ending things with the red-headed oaf.”

“Pathetic, really. I’ve actually got some stationary with me,” and much to Draco’s dismay, Theo pulled a small notecard and matching envelope from his pocket. He stretched out a hand to grab a quill from the container on the corner of the desk when a pale hand caught him around the wrist.

“You are not writing to her on my behalf,” he growled in a low but even-tempered voice.

“Oh, so you were paying attention?” Theo smirked and twisted his arm out of Draco’s grasp.

“Nice of you to join the conversation,” Blaise added.

Draco ran a hand down his face and counted to five before addressing the incorrigibly interfering pair across his desk, “What will it take for you to drop this and leave so I can get on with my workday?” Identical looks of offended surprise crossed their faces and they gaped theatrically, first at him, and then at one another.

“It’s as if he doesn’t want us here at all,” Theo ranted.

“Completely ungrateful for our help and concern,” Blaise sniffed with disdain.

“Well, if he’s going to be like that, I might just ask her to go to the gala with me instead.”

“Hmmm, not a bad idea. Wouldn’t want to subject the lovely witch to his ornery countenance anyway.”

“Too right. No one needs to be scowled at all night by someone in total denial of his own feelings. Probably would have been a horrid mistake.”

“Perhaps she has an unattached friend and we could double?”

“Brilliant! I’ll be sure to ask. Let me just…” but for the second time, Theo’s wrist was caught in a vice-like grip as he attempted to snatch a quill. While most people would have been at least mildly alarmed at the murderous look being sent his way, the handsome Pureblood simply cocked an aristocratic brow, his dark eyes dancing mischievously as he met the steel grey ones glaring at him.

“Problem, mate?” Blaise snarked as his friends continued their stare-down.

Draco let go of Theo and shook his head, muttering to himself as he scowled down at his desk. He picked up a quill and fiddled with it so forcefully the feather quickly took on the appearance of having been trampled by a Hippogriff. The visiting duo maintained a cool air of calm yet purposeful silence, knowing their stoic host would eventually crack. After forty-six seconds of unintelligible griping, he did just that.

“First of all,” he began, spearing his nosey friends with an icy, no-nonsense glare that would have sent most people scurrying out the door, but they knew him better.

“Oh, goody, there’s a list,” chortled Theo.

“Fantastic,” agreed Blaise, making a show of settling more comfortably in his seat.

“Ugh,” Draco groaned and scrubbed his face with both hands this time, carding his fingers roughly through his platinum locks so it stood on end in a very uncharacteristically messy way, causing both young men watching him to goggle in mild alarm, “Can you both _please_ just let me speak? I’m only going to say this once and I’m already regretting engaging in this conversation at all, so if you want any sort of insight to how I might be feeling about this, just… just reign it in for two bloody minutes, alright?”

Immediately Blaise and Theo sat straight up and adopted looks of contrite obedience, peering curiously at their typically-composed and rather reserved friend. Blaise gestured wordlessly for Draco to continue speaking, but before he did, he waved his wand to lock and silence his office against anyone who might walk by.

Sighing for what felt like the hundredth time that morning, the pale blonde leaned back in his seat and fixed his sight on a random spot near the ceiling, finding it easier to voice his thoughts without looking directly at either of his cohorts.

“First of all,” he began again, “I am fully aware of the broken engagement, thanks to the _Prophet_ and my mother. Secondly, I have absolutely no intention of asking her to be my date to the gala next month. Such a move would be entirely tactless on the immediate heels of that announcement. Thirdly, and most importantly, while I may have at one time considered myself interested in her, that was a long time ago, and I have no reason to believe that Granger would ever want any sort of attention from me beyond what is required by our jobs.” His diatribe over, he lowered his gaze to his silent audience, only to find them studying him like he’d sprouted tentacles. Theo’s head was cocked and he was chewing the inside of his cheek, his brow furrowed in contemplation. Blaise was staring at him with a slight frown on his face, his eyes narrowed, his lips pressed in a thin line. Draco waited for several uncomfortable seconds under their scrutiny before he finally blurted out.

“Well? Why are you staring at me like that? Don’t you have any scathing remarks or a ten-point lecture to deliver?”

Blaise and Theo looked at one another and then back at Draco, clearly unsure how to proceed. After several more heartbeats of painful silence, Theo apprehensively addressed the least-composed wizard in the room.

“That’s it? Those three points are your whole argument? Your whole reason for passing up an opportunity you’ve been itching after for _years_?” he looked incredulous.

“What do you mean? It’s quite enough, I think. And I also feel like you’re grossly exaggerating my attachment to her,” but Blaise jumped in at that moment.

“Would you like a rundown of all the times I’ve caught you staring at her? Or a list of conversations we’ve had that have included her favorable attributes? Or a chart depicting your increasing level of awareness regarding anything and everything having to do with one petite brunette witch?” his voice had risen towards the end in both volume and pitch and he seemed on the verge of leaving his seat.

“Too right,” Theo nodded vehemently, “Did you, or did you not, just yesterday, mention how you hoped she’d have to collaborate with you on the upcoming project for the relocation of the Kelpie herd that has strayed off the coast of Lagavulin towards Rathlin Island?”

“And last week, I distinctly recall you saying how she must have bought a new dress, because you didn’t remember ever seeing her in that particular shade of green before,” added Blaise.

“Oh! And the Saturday before,” Theo was just getting started when Draco groaned loudly, effectively silencing their litany once more.

“Fiiiiine. Fine. Yes, I find her attractive. Yes, I enjoy working with her. Yes, I happen to notice things about her, but none of that means she has ever entertained even the merest hint of a thought towards me as anything more than a work acquaintance.” Draco’s shoulders slumped as he rested his head on the back of his chair, avoiding the sympathetic yet challenging expressions on his friends’ faces as he continued, “She doesn’t want anything more from me. Doesn’t want someone with a history like mine. That’s not fair to her. I’d just drag her down.”

At least a dozen heartbeats thrummed before the silence was broken once again.

“How do you know?” Theo asked.

“Know what?” Draco looked at him, confused.

“Know that she doesn’t want anything more from you? Have you ever asked her?”

“Of course not! She’s been attached to Weasley since we left school! What kind of Troll would I have been if I’d expressed interest when she was involved in a serious relationship?”

“So, what you’re saying,” Blaise interjected, “Is that you’re just assuming all this about her.”

Another long-suffering sigh escaped the pale wizard, “I don’t think it’s that much of a leap, honestly. Not with our personal history, and not with the fact that we fought on opposite sides of a war that almost killed her best friend.”

A few more seconds of contemplation passed before Theo slapped his hands on his thighs and shifted to the edge of his seat, as if about to stand.

“Well, I guess that’s that, then.”

For once, Blaise didn’t seem to follow his friend’s train of thought and fixed him with a look equally as surprised as Draco’s.

“What’s what?” the dark-skinned wizard asked.

“Well, clearly he’s got it all sorted and has come to the irrefutable conclusion that there’s nothing for it. Even though he’s never actually made a single, solitary attempt to get closer to her, or given her the opportunity to get to know him – the _real_ him, not the arrogant bully from school, or the bigoted arse his father expected him to be, but who he truly is – and regardless of the fact that he’s been hopelessly infatuated with her for ages, it’s painfully obvious he’d never stand a chance, so let’s just give it up as a bad job.”

Part-way through his tirade, Theo had actually gotten up out of his chair as his volume had risen and his tone shifted to something much less amicable than it had been up until that point. Fixing his long-time friend with a furious scowl, he planted his hands on the desk and leaned into Draco’s personal space, causing him to tip back in his seat, a look of mild alarm on his face.

“Eleven-year-old Hermione thought you were a prat. Fourteen-year-old Hermione gave you what you deserved. Seventeen-year-old Hermione felt sorry for you. And nineteen-year-old Hermione stood up for you because she found something worthwhile in you, something that didn’t deserve to rot away in a cell. In the five years since then, she has never shied away from you, never treated you with disdain, never protested working with you, sometimes for weeks on end. Correct me if I’m wrong,” he demanded the last bit with a menacing growl that was so out of character for the normally-jovial, snarky tosser he was, that Draco’s eyes widened even more and he simply shook his head in response.

“You are _not_ the same person you were back then,” he gestured to himself and Blaise as he continued, “None of us are, and she knows that. Everyone knows that. Stop using your past as an excuse to avoid putting yourself out there. Is it scary? Merlin’s pants, absolutely. But is it worth it? Well, that’s for you to decide. I would think the chance to see what could be between the two of you would be worth it, but if you’d rather exist in the safer, self-preserving world of missed opportunities, be my guest.” With that, the lanky brunette pushed off the desk, straightened his jacket and tie and turned to Blaise, who had been watching the entire scene in stunned silence.

“I need to get over to Gringott’s. Floo later?”

Blaise nodded in agreement and Theo stalked out of the room without another word or glance in Draco’s direction.

Once the door swung shut with a sharp _click_ both of the remaining young men let out tension-relieving breaths and eyed each other skeptically.

Draco let out a low whistle, “What in Salazar’s saggy…” but Blaise held up his hands in surrender and cut him off.

“I have no idea, mate. None at all. We’d agreed to come here and take the mickey out of you, see if we could rile you up a bit, but that? I have no clue where that came from.” Blaise’s dark brown eyes were wide and honest, and it was clear he’d had no part in Theo’s lecture. After a moment’s consideration, he spoke again, “However, he’s not exactly wrong.”

Silver eyes flashed in defense, “Meaning?”

Blaise shrugged, “I know it seems daunting, but you never know, something might come out of it.” He paused when he heard a low rumble from his platinum-haired housemate. “I’m not saying run out the door right now, hunt her down and demand she go out with you,” he snorted, “Like that would ever happen anyway. No, but I am suggesting maybe put yourself in her path a little more over the next few weeks. See what happens. If she’s still available leading up to the gala, and her response to you has been positive, invite her to go with you.”

Draco pondered this advice for a moment and voiced his thoughts aloud, “I’m not going to start stalking her, not going to randomly show up in places she’d know I’d have no business being. But if we do wind up working the Rathlin Island project together, I’ll consider asking her if things go well.”

Blaise’s face split into a wide grin, “Well, that’s better than I’d expected. Too bad Theo left before he could take credit for your change of heart.” He chuckled and adopted a look of smug superiority, “Guess I’ll have to let him know my words of wisdom finally sank through that thick skull of yours.” He stood and straightened his jacket, “I need to get to work as well. Drinks at the Leaky tomorrow?”

“Sure. Tell Theo he can join us only if he leaves his haranguing at home.”

Blaise sniggered and nodded, “Will do.” With that, he strode to the door and out into the hall.

Draco let out a low laugh of his own, feeling a little lighter than he had when he’d arrived in his office that morning, and determined to let fate play whatever hand it would in the days to come.

ooOoo

Friday night was always busy at The Leaky Cauldron, but in recent years it seemed to become the popular spot for magical folks of a certain age. No longer just a pass-through for those on their way to and from Diagon Alley, the centuries-old pub now boasted a regular crowd of young witches and wizards who simply saw it as a good place to mingle with friends and relax after a busy work week. The start to any given weekend usually began with a steady trickle of Ministry workers who’d just ended their day, soon to be followed by those who were coming from farther away, or shops that closed a little later. In no time at all, tables were full, music was loud, and the atmosphere was one of boisterous camaraderie, as opposed to the slower lull that filled the space during the day.

Ten years ago, many who frequented the Leaky now wouldn’t have darkened its doorstep. Five years ago, those who entered chose their seats very carefully, and only after taking stock of who else might be nearby. Over the last four years, whatever invisible lines had previously been drawn had vanished entirely, and with the exception of a few young couples who seemed to be unable to function more than a few inches away from each other, everyone else was perfectly content to plop themselves into the first available seat, or squeeze themselves into any open spot at the bar. It was stuffy and noisy, almost impossible to talk without yelling, and the floor was usually coated with something sticky and unpleasant about halfway through the night, but it was familiar and welcoming, and a good place to let loose every once in a while. The live band in the corner was warming up for another set, and a handful of people were already in the small section of space reserved for dancing. Lively conversation filled the air, broken by raucous laughter or shouts of welcome every few minutes, and relaxed grins and mischievous smirks could be seen on almost every face.

This was precisely where Draco found himself, seated in a corner booth with Blaise and Neville. The latter two had struck up a friendship over the last couple of years, finding common ground over an interest in herbology right in that very establishment, as they had discussed the merits of various plants as ingredients in mixed drinks.

“Have you tried the _Screaming Mandrake_ yet? It’s Hannah’s latest addition to the specialty list,” Neville couldn’t disguise the hint of pride in his voice and he glanced over to the bar where his young wife was chatting happily with patrons while preparing a variety of cocktails.

“Guessing you had a hand in that one?” Blaise offered and the former Gryffindor nodded with a grin.

“It’s a mix of tequila, pineapple juice, gillywater, and steeped mandrake leaves. They’ve got quite a kick to them, adds a bit of fire at the end.”

“Sounds good. I’ll have to try one,” Blaise returned the grin enthusiastically and turned his gaze on Draco. “How ‘bout you? You want one?” The tall blonde shrugged and raised his brows in a _‘sure, why not’_ sort of way, and Neville took that as an excuse to go order a round and visit with his favorite witch.

“Looks like everyone’s here tonight,” Blaise commented, noticing his tablemate’s eyes roaming the crowded space and knowing he was most likely looking for one particular person.

“Mmhmm,” Draco hummed, his eyes flickering once more to the door before resting back on his companion, “Except Theo. Where’s he?”

“Said he was coming,” but before any further conjecture could be given, the very focus of their query appeared as if summoned and plunked himself into the seat Neville had just vacated.

“Speak of the devil,” Blaise punched him lightly in the arm. “You’re late!”

“Just got caught up on my way in,” Theo jerked his chin in the direction he’d come from, and both his friends looked past him to see who might have garnered his attention.

“Who?” Draco asked, peering intently at the crowd, recognizing almost everyone and curious as to who his socially particular friend would have deigned to spend his time with, especially knowing the other blokes were waiting for him.

Theo gave a light shrug as if it was no big deal, but something caught his attention to the side and before he could stop himself, he looked over his shoulder and smiled, the other two wizards immediately following his line of sight.

“Luna Lovegood?” Blaise asked in a stage whisper, leaning towards the lanky brunette with surprised glee spreading across his face. Theo tried valiantly to play it off as if it had been nothing, but couldn’t repress the grin slowly inching his cheeks up. He shook his head and huffed out a laugh, dropping his eyes to the table before mumbling a response.

“Yeah, just… we’re just friends… and barely that, but…” his words were halting and very unlike his normally lightning-quick verbosity, and his expression was nervous and hopeful and earnestly looking for approval from his two best mates, who were honestly nothing other than thrilled for him.

“That’s brilliant,” Blaise crowed in an excited undertone, not wanting to draw attention to their trio, “How? When?”

Theo waved a hand as if it was of inconsequential and at that moment, Neville beckoned the Italian wizard over to the bar, presumably to show him how the cocktail they’d been discussing was made. Only then did the lanky brunette’s stare fully land on the pale blonde’s, a sheepish look coloring his handsome face.

“Draco, I’m sorry for yesterday. I meant what I said, but I didn’t mean for it to come across the way it did, if that makes any sense.”

Draco nodded and smirked, “Don’t worry about it. I was rather shocked to see you get so riled up, but if it makes you feel any better, your words hit their mark and I’ve decided to give things a go.”

Theo’s eyes bugged at the confession, “What? You’re going to ask her out? Or to the gala?”

“Not exactly,” he snorted, “I’m not leaping ahead, mind you, just waiting to see how things play out over the next week or so. I’m almost positive we’ll be paired for the Rathlin assignment, and if so,” he gestured with a roll of his hand and Theo understood.

“While I think that’s playing it extremely safe, I get it, mate,” Theo scrubbed a hand over his face, “I was lecturing myself as much as you during my rant.”

“How so?”

“I’ve been mincing around my interest in Luna for several weeks now, after we ran into each other at Flourish and Blotts. She was nothing but pleasant and lovely and so bloody easy to talk to, but I just…” his words trailed away and a frown marred his features.

“What? Did she say something to indicate she wasn’t interested?”

“No, not at all, but I’m having a hard time getting past the fact that my father was the one behind her kidnapping,” Theo was now shredding a small, paper napkin that had previously sat under Neville’s glass to tiny bits, frustration clear on his face.

“Does she blame you for that?” Draco didn’t know the former Ravenclaw well, but he didn’t think she was the type to hold grudges, especially ill-placed ones.

“No, and that makes it even worse, somehow. I tried apologizing, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Told me she knew I had nothing to do with it, and that I should concentrate on ridding myself of my Wrackspurt infestation, whatever in Merlin’s name that is.”

Draco laughed out loud at that, having heard a little bit about the kinds of creatures the ethereal blonde often spoke of from Hermione when they’d worked together previously. He quickly schooled his features back to a more serious set and focused on his friend, “So, what’s the issue?”

Theo sighed deeply, “How? How can she just move past the fact that it was my father, _my_ _sodding_ _father_ , who took her as punishment from her own? How can she want anything to do with me?” His dark brown eyes were wide and pleading for understanding. Draco considered the questions for a moment before sharing his thoughts, which seemed to come out of nowhere, yet he knew they were things he’d avoided thinking about himself.

“I think the same way any of them can,” he didn’t need to explain that “them” meant anyone not connected in any way to the Death Eaters, or Voldemort-supporters, or even Slytherins, really. It seemed alumni from the other three Hogwarts houses were much better at forgiving and mending bridges and giving second chances than the green and silver snakes had ever been. As he pondered this, he realized that it was true with regards to himself and Hermione, as well. Just a week after his trial, when her testimony had helped keep him from a prison sentence, he’d sent her a letter expressing his gratitude and offering an apology for the way he had treated her over the years, for the things that had happened to her in his house, and for basically being a royal pain in the arse. The very first time they had worked together, he had reiterated some of those things in person and she’d told him she forgave him long ago and that she didn’t hold him responsible.

“What’s holding us back then?” Theo voiced the very question that had come to the forefront of Draco’s mind as he sat there, spinning his glass between his fingers.

“Pride? Fear of rejection? Unwillingness to appear vulnerable? Lingering shame? Misplaced guilt?” Draco threw out his suggestions, knowing every one of them was true.

“So, in short, emotional constipation?” Theo sniggered and Draco joined in.

“Pretty much,” he agreed.

“Well, then I think it’s high time we divest ourselves of those massive piles of shite and go after something that makes us happy for once, yeah?” Theo smacked the table with his palm, emphasizing his determination and Draco couldn’t help but be bolstered by it all.

“You’re right, Theo,” he nodded firmly, “You’re absolutely right.”

Just then, both Blaise and Neville rejoined the party, bearing tumblers of a foggy-looking, slightly greenish drink, garnished with a sprig of leaves and a tiny red pepper speared on a toothpick. The proffered beverages were distributed amongst the four wizards as the two returning men sank into the available seats.

Blaise raised his glass and cast conspiratorial glances at both of his former housemates, “Here’s to taking the Thestral by the wings, lads.”

Four glasses clinked together, immediately followed by large gulps of the murky concoction. Shudders, gasps, and a round of expletives and choked laughter came on the heels of their imbibing.

“What _is_ this?” Theo asked, staring at the glass in his hand with a mix of horror and awe.

“It’s called a _Screaming Mandrake_ ,” Neville provided, “One of the new specialty drinks. Packs a good punch, doesn’t it?” He was grinning, even though his eyes were watery and he coughed again.

“I’ll say!”

“Second swallow,” Blaise demanded and they all raised their glasses in a friendly salute before taking another swig. More spluttering and some smacking of the table top accompanied this one, leaving all four of them laughing at each other.

“Definitely some strong stuff in this,” Draco admitted, feeling his ears heating up and wondering just how much tequila was in each glass. Over the last few years, the Leaky had started offering Muggle liquor as part of its line-up; something the younger crowd had taken an immediate liking to. He wondered, however, if Hannah and the other bartenders followed traditional measurements, or if they made up their own. If the slight tingling of his scalp was any indication, he’d bet on the latter.

“Are we supposed to eat this?” Theo was squinting at the tiny pepper that had adorned his drink.

“You can, but they’re rather spicy,” cautioned Neville.

“Have you tried one?” Theo asked.

“Once,” the friendly herbologist admitted, “Thought for sure there’d be smoke coming out of my ears.”

“Let’s do it,” Blaise challenged.

This time, instead of raising their glasses, they hailed one another with the small, red fruits, instantly tossing them in their mouths afterward. It took roughly five seconds for the heat of the chili to start affecting them; Neville turned bright pink, Blaise had stopped chewing and seemed frozen with his eyes shut tight, Theo had tears streaming down his cheeks as he chewed furiously, and Draco was trying not to choke while also continuing to breathe. Frantic looks passed between the friends, none of them sure what to do now that their colossal mistake had been revealed.

In a desperate attempt to rid himself of the agony currently plaguing him, Theo gulped the rest of his cocktail, but since it too held a bit of heat, it did nothing to reduce the effects of the pepper. Draco actually stuffed the leaves in his mouth, hoping to Godric they were safe to eat and that they’d help in some way. They didn’t. Neville actually spit his mouthful of fire out into a napkin, shaking his head vehemently and gasping, and Blaise hadn’t moved, though beads of sweat were now clearly visible on his forehead. Much to their confusion, a tray appeared hovering over their heads, bearing glasses of…milk? Draco peered over towards the bar to find Hannah smirking in their direction, and she nodded when she caught his eye, clearly indicating they should drink up.

Passing the new delivery around to the others, knocking one against Blaise’s tightly-clenched knuckles so he’d open his eyes, the wizards wordlessly bolted down what turned out to be an amazing antidote. Finally able to breathe a little more normally, they took stock of one another and laughed weakly at the red cheeks, teary eyes, and generally mussed-up appearance they’d each adopted within the last few minutes.

“Oooohhhh, don’t ever let me do that again,” Theo groaned, rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m not designed for that kind of violence from my food,” Blaise glared at the stem of the offending pepper that now sat rather innocently on his napkin.

Neville just sighed and shook his head, grinning sheepishly, “I didn’t think it would be quite so awful the second time around.”

“Clearly one does not build up a tolerance,” Draco said dryly.

“Not that I plan to test that theory,” Blaise grumbled and they all sniggered.

“Speaking of not building up a tolerance,” Theo caught Draco’s eye and cocked his head in the direction of the door to the pub, which had just swung open to admit a handful of their former classmates, including one specific curly-haired witch.

Draco flashed a warning look at his companion, not wanting to draw attention to his reluctantly-admitted feelings for Hermione, especially since he knew Neville was one of her good friends. Unfortunately, the amicable Gryffindor picked up on the exchange and followed Theo’s original line of sight.

“Hermione?” hazel eyes pinned the blonde Pureblood on the spot with open curiosity.

His first instinct was to scoff and deny it, but honestly, what was the point? Instead, he nodded once, his gaze flickering towards the new arrivals once again, noticing the pretty Muggleborn was now halfway across the room and inching steadily closer to their table.

“I say go for it,” Neville shrugged and grinned encouragingly.

Draco goggled at him for several seconds before finding his words, “She just ended things with Weasley though, so…” he trailed off as if that explained any hesitation he might have. To his great surprise, Neville actually laughed.

“Not really,” he said, and seeing the confused looks from all three of his drinking buddies, continued on, “Okay, so this is _not_ public knowledge and you lot _cannot_ repeat it. Understood?” Three heads nodded in unison as they collectively leaned closer together, towards the center of the table so Neville could lower his voice as he shared this top secret bit of news.

“So, the _Prophet_ just ran that article yesterday about Ron and Hermione’s engagement, yeah?” Again, nods of agreement were seen. “They actually broke it off six months ago, but didn’t go public with it because they didn’t want to overshadow Harry and Ginny’s wedding. They were best man and maid of honor and all, so…” he shrugged as if this explained everything, but three sets of eyes wide as saucers met his announcement.

“But the wedding was three months ago,” Theo was the first to question the rationalization behind such a decision.

“Yeah, they officially split back at the end of February, but decided not to make a big deal out of it because they didn’t want anyone speculating how they would handle being paired up for the wedding or anything. You know Rita Skeeter would have turned it into a circus, especially since Hermione is one of her least-favorite people.” Neville paused to snort and roll his eyes there, though the other three wizards still looked entirely bemused. He waved that unconnected bit of trivia away and continued.

“Once the wedding was over, they still kept things quiet because they didn’t want it to seem like they split because of anything connected to it. Right after that weekend, Hermione was promoted, and Ron changed jobs, and then about a month later, George and Angelina announced they were expecting, so they didn’t want to dampen the mood then, either. They agreed to wait till summer was over, and honestly hoped it wouldn’t warrant more than a tiny side article on a back page, but obviously Rita couldn’t settle for that.”

“So, why exactly did they end it?” Blaise asked and Draco was very thankful, since his mind was positively churning with all manner of thoughts regarding the fact that Hermione had _not_ just come off a relationship, nor did she seem extremely upset by its demise.

Neville shrugged and gave a small smile, “They’re better as friends, and they’re still extremely close. I think they both felt really pressured to stay together and make things work, but as time went on, they realized they weren’t meant for each other. They actually started talking about splitting up almost a year ago, but didn’t go through with it till after the holidays, again, just trying to simplify things. Neither of them wanted to be bombarded with attention from people wanting to be next in line.”

Draco was still working through this plethora of information, trying to decide what to do with it, if anything, as the source of his musings was working her way through the cramped establishment towards their table. Before he knew it, her voice reached him from just behind his shoulder as she chatted with several coworkers, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he became aware of her proximity. He flashed a look at Theo who was watching him with poorly concealed amusement, then at Blaise who was simply staring him with a brow arched in challenge, and lastly at Neville who nodded encouragingly.

Bolstered by their unspoken support, he huffed a fortifying breath and pushed up from his seat, his head only mildly buzzing from the round of peppery drinks, and turned to find Hermione less than a foot away, laughing delightedly at something one of their peers had just said. He brushed ever so slightly against her arm as he eased his way past her, hoping to catch her attention, which he did, and immediately found himself rooted to the spot by a pair of wide, sparkling brown eyes.

“Hey, Malfoy,” she greeted him with a friendly smile and he nodded with a genial smirk of his own.

“Granger. Headed to the bar, can I get you anything?” His measured tone revealed nothing of the snitch bashing around in his ribcage, or the sweatiness of his palms. She looked at him for heartbeat or two, her eyes narrowing as if contemplating something before she answered.

“I’ll come with. I’m not sure what I want yet,” her tone was light and – dare he think it – teasing. Something in the way she said the words left him wondering if she was only talking about drinks, but he shoved that wistful thought down and gestured grandly for her to lead the way. She did, and he followed with his usual loping grace, though his brain was whirring with thoughts about what to say once they reached their destination. Hannah solved that problem for him, however.

“Hey, Hermione!” the former-Hufflepuff greeted her friend happily, then turned her grin on Draco. “How’d you like the _Screamer_?”

He chuckled, “Definitely an experience.” Hermione looked between the two expectantly, but Hannah asked what she wanted and her attention shifted to the handwritten list of specialty drinks on the board behind the bar.

“Oooh, you already have the _September First_ back on the menu,” she exclaimed, obviously pleased.

“Yeah, so many requests for that one, I decided to bring it back early and I’ll probably just leave it on as a permanent option,” Hannah explained.

“What’s in that one?” Draco asked, not having tried many of the mixed drinks and feeling rather skeptical after his latest experience.

“It’s basically an apple martini,” Hermione explained, but after seeing the nonplussed expression on the tall blonde’s face, expounded on her answer. “Vodka with apple cider, and Hannah adds a splash of sparkling wine and a slice of candied apple. It tastes like autumn in a glass,” she added wistfully as she watched the liquor being poured, a soft smile gracing her delicate features. He found himself staring, simply taking in the curve of her cheek, the sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose, the perfect cupid’s bow of her upper lip. She turned back and found his eyes on her, dropping her own to the gleaming bar top for a second before gazing up at him through her long, dark lashes. He found it difficult to swallow.

“You should try one, I think you’d like it,” she said, a challenge in her eyes as she watched him for a response.

He blinked, then blinked again. He cleared his throat and nodded, earning himself a triumphant grin from the petite witch by his side as she signaled Hannah to make another. He forced himself to function like a normal human being, and not an inarticulate slug, and asked if she’d heard anything about the Rathlin Island project, which she responded to with great enthusiasm and all at once, they were lost in their own world of conversation. At some point their drinks appeared and they paused to enjoy them.

Hermione took a sip and closed her eyes, clearly savoring her favorite cocktail. Draco tried not to stare but found himself mesmerized by how relaxed she seemed to be, and the way she licked her lips before her eyes fluttered back open and immediately locked on his.

“Do you like it?” she asked and for a split second he wasn’t sure what she was asking about, his brain veering off in a completely untoward direction before he saw her eyes flicker down to his drink and back up again.

“Oh, uh,” he lifted the glass to his mouth, noticing her chocolate orbs following his motions and finding it hard to put his normally fluid hand-eye coordination to good use. He sipped the unfamiliar beverage and was pleasantly surprised by the smooth, crisp yet sweet taste that coated his tongue. It was much lighter than the last thing he’d imbibed, for which he was incredibly thankful since no choking, gasping, or spluttering accompanied this swallow. The name was fitting; it reminded him of fall leaves and the barest hint of colder weather on the way, with the tangy flavor of apple in the background. It made him nostalgic for the start of the school term, and he couldn’t help but think of the ancient castle they’d shared for a handful of years.

“Very good,” he said sincerely as he took another sip before setting his glass down and smiling in appreciation, “Thanks for the recommendation.”

“Any time,” her voice was slightly lower, her smile soft and almost flirtatious, though he didn’t want to read anything into what was going on between them. He turned back to the conversation they’d been having previously, content to simply enjoy her company and spend this time with her, and having no expectations whatsoever that it would go any further. After a little while, though, it seemed Hermione had other ideas.

“Oh, I haven’t heard this in ages,” she turned towards the band and the song they’d just started, one he recognized from their school days. “Do you dance?” she asked, her eyes glinting in anticipation and though he normally would have scoffed and refused, he found he would have agreed to waltz with a Skrewt if it meant he’d get to spend more time with her. So he shrugged and offered a lopsided grin which was met with a beaming smile that made his heart quicken. She downed the last little bit of her drink and cocked her head towards the dance floor.

“Let’s go then.”

Finishing his own in one gulp, he let her lead him to the center of the crowded space where she turned to face him and started moving in time with the heavy bass of the music. With rising horror, Draco realized he really _didn’t_ know how to dance to this kind of song. He’d been raised to learn waltzes and reels, things that had patterns and steps, not whatever _this_ was, but now he was here and there was no way he was going to ditch her in the middle of the floor and risk ruining the unexpected chance he was being given.

He surveyed some of the wizards around him and found them basically staying within the same small space as their partner, swaying in time, maybe moving their feet a little, nothing elaborate by any means. He did notice, however, that many of them had their hands on their partners in some way; resting on their hips, holding their hands, wrapped around their waists. He didn’t have any idea if Hermione would welcome that sort of contact from him and was more than a little apprehensive about making that kind of move in such a public setting. So, he focused on finding the rhythm and shifting his weight around enough to be considered dancing but not enough to draw attention to himself, since he still felt completely out of his element. He looked down at the curly-haired witch in front of him to find her watching him with undisguised amusement and arched a sardonic brow, daring her to mock him. She simply flashed him a wicked grin that felt like lightning straight to his gut and moved closer to him, mirroring her movements with his own, though hers were definitely more fluid and relaxed.

Draco was finding it harder to breathe; the closer she got, the more intentional her actions seemed, and he was at a loss as to what to do, terrified of reading this wrong and bringing what was becoming a singularly spectacular night to a screeching halt. She laced the fingers of one hand with his, her thumb making lazy circles on his palm as she continued to follow the music. Sometimes her eyes were closed, sometimes they focused on the floor or on their hands, and every so often they met his own, which never left her face while soaking up every detail of her beautiful features. That is, until she gently grabbed his other hand and placed it on the curve of her hip, stepping even further into his space and causing him to feel like he might start hyperventilating. Only then did his gaze wander down her slender frame to the spot where he felt like a fire could ignite at any time under his palm where it sat on her denim-clad waist.

His fingers flexed involuntarily and gripped her more tightly, and he whipped his focus back up to check for any censure in her expression. He found none. Instead, what he did find was a pair of fathomless gold-flecked eyes boring into him, searing him with an intensity he wasn’t prepared for. Her mouth was curved in a smile that could only be described as seductive and he knew there was no hiding the raw desire he was sure was advertised across his own visage. She untwined her fingers from his and skimmed her hand up his arm and over his shoulder, bringing it to rest at the back of his neck where she started playing with the hair above his collar, all the while watching his face for whatever reaction it might incur. He couldn’t help the slow blink of his eyelids, or the unmistakable sigh that escaped as she molded herself to him, bringing her other hand up to join the first, leaving his now-empty one to find purchase on her opposite hip.

The song came to an end, and the band seamlessly transitioning to another, slower one that included an even heavier bass part, reverberating through every fiber of his being as they moved together to the beat. He realized they’d been staring at each other for longer than would normally be considered comfortable, yet he couldn’t seem to stop, nor did she appear to want to either. He felt like she was studying him, trying to read him like one of her numerous text books, searching for an answer. The self-doubt that constantly plagued him warned that she’d only look deep enough to prove there was nothing worth her while there, but he summoned whatever confidence and courage he could find and wrapped his arms fully around her waist, pulling her even closer and giving her a lopsided smirk before dropping his head against her curls. He held his breath as he waited to see what her reaction would be, only to have her melt against him, turning her face so her cheek rested against his chest.

Merlin, Godric, and Salazar’s skirts, this was perfection. Draco had never felt so content in all his life, had never felt like someone was made for him the way she fit in his arms, had never dared to dream that a moment like this could be his. His heart raced with a mixture of elation and panic as he wondered what this meant and where they might take things from here, though he tried to simply remain in the moment just in case it was the only one he’d be granted. Her curls were luxuriously soft and smelled like tropical flowers and coconut, and her lithe figure curved in all the right places and lined up with him like a puzzle piece in its designated spot. He had no idea why she’d let him get so close, why she’d want to be with him like this, but he wasn’t about to complain. He’d stay there all night if she’d let him.

Unfortunately, that was not in the cards. As the song came to a close, Lee Jordan stepped up to the microphone and, as their regular emcee and social director, announced that it just so happened to be Cho Chang and Seamus Finnegan’s birthdays, and since they were both there, it would be horribly bad form not to sing to them. The two celebrants were ushered up to the small stage, and once assembled, the crowd was led in an enthusiastic rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’, after which, much whistling and hollering was endured, confetti shot from multiple wands, and a round of gillywater sent out to everyone.

Draco and Hermione accepted glasses of the mild liquor from a floating tray and met each other’s gaze with giddy apprehension. A shy smile formed on her face and, emboldened by the fact that she was still there with him, he winked at her before draining his tumbler. She grinned and tilted her head towards the bar, taking a step in that direction but keeping her eyes on him to make sure he followed. He did, of course, with a hand gently placed on her lower back, only breaking contact once they settled onto two stools down at the far end, away from anyone else. He felt the air shimmer around them and deduced she’d cast a Notice-Me-Not charm or something similar to give them a bit of privacy, and the mischievous glint in her eye coupled with a delicate shrug confirmed it.

After a breath or two of companionable silence, where he just continued to admire her as she finished her drink, he decided to risk it.

“So,” he began, propping his chin up on one hand while draping the other across the back of her tall chair, “Here we are.”

That same wicked smile flashed across her face again and he wished, not for the first time that night, that he could read her mind. She leaned closer to him, angling her head and continuing her scrutiny of him from earlier. Normally, he would feel highly uncomfortable under such a piercing stare, but he found he didn’t mind having her observe him in such a way and instead, let himself get lost in her whiskey-colored eyes. Without realizing it, he slowly inched his way closer to her until their noses were mere centimeters apart. Her attention trailed down to his mouth and back up again and he took the heat in her gaze as an invitation.

Leaning down, he gently brushed his lips against hers and felt an immediate spark ignite in his core. Fighting a massive desire to crush her against him and snog her senseless, he simply repeated the feather-light motion before pulling back to gauge her reaction. Her eyes had been closed and slowly fluttered open as a tiny smirk tugged at her lips.

“Here we are,” she breathed in a voice barely above a whisper.

“And where do we go from here?” he rasped out, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Hmmm,” she looked thoughtfully at him as she considered his question, “I think I want to spend some more time with you.”

“You do?” he couldn’t help the disbelief that colored his tone, even though his insides were throwing a parade at this news.

“Yes,” her eyes glinted with mischief, “Good thing I requested we be paired up for the Rathlin case, then, yeah?”

“You did?” again, he could hardly believe his ears. She’d specifically asked to work with him; he’d never in a million years have expected that, but he was more than a little thrilled by her admission.

She nodded and grinned, “Is that so hard to comprehend?”

“Well, I…. I just didn’t think you’d want… I’d never presume…” he was floundering, trying to answer honestly without putting his insecurities on full display, but she seemed to grasp his unspoken meaning.

“Yes, Draco,” his stomach did cartwheels at the sound of his name on her lips, “I want to.” This time, it was she who leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Unable to stop himself, he brought his hands up to frame her face, his fingers sinking into her curls, his entire body thrumming with hope and elation, desire and sheer bliss. When they broke the kiss this time, they were both a little breathless and flushed, but smiling like loons.

“I think we should probably call it a night,” she offered shyly, “I truly hate to, but…”

“I completely understand,” he cut her off, not needing any sort of explanation. She had already made it abundantly clear that they would be pursuing something in the days ahead, and that was more than enough for him. He’d go as slow as she wanted, take as much time as she needed, and use the opportunity to show her what she meant to him and how deep his feelings ran for her. Feelings he’d only recently been willing to acknowledge, but that had been his constant hidden companion for longer than he cared to admit.

“Can I walk you to the apparition point?” he asked, entwining his fingers with hers and silently begging the Founders she’d say yes. She nodded and he refrained from punching his fist in the air in triumph, instead settling for flashing her another lopsided grin as they both slid off their stools.

They wound their way through the still-crowded tavern, neither of them bothering to seek out friends or say farewells, never letting go of each other’s hand. Once they stepped out onto the sidewalk, the cool night air gave them pause as they both stood for a moment and collected their thoughts now that they were away from the noisy, charged atmosphere. Hermione was looking at their interwoven fingers, and Draco was looking at her while fighting the urge to pinch himself to prove this wasn’t all a fantastic hallucination. She met his gaze for a second before turning her attention towards the end of the street, biting her lower lip and frowning slightly as if unsure about something. Before he could ask if everything was alright however, she pinned him with an expression of fierce determination, her eyes dancing with a fire he’d seen earlier.

“This way,” she tugged his hand and cocked her head in the direction of the apparition point and they fell into step with comfortable, unhurried ease. He was desperately trying to decide how to go about kissing her goodnight, because he definitely wanted to, but he wasn’t sure if it should be something simple and sweet, or something deeper that showed her exactly how much he wanted her. He didn’t want to scare her off, but he also didn’t want to leave her wondering about his feelings. This carousel of thoughts kept spinning as they neared the familiar alleyway where local witches and wizards often popped away, and as they reached a shadowed corner, their steps halted.

“Tonight was…” he wasn’t sure how to explain to her exactly how unexpectedly perfect tonight had been, but she didn’t give him a chance to find the words before she stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. Just as before, his magic flickered in response to hers and his heart thudded almost audibly in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her as close to him as he possibly could, a gesture she returned by winding her arms up around his neck and slotting herself into place. He angled his head to deepen the kiss and was positive he felt the earth shift beneath his feet, and a second later he registered a distinct change in the air around him.

Breaking the kiss, he looked around and found they were no longer in the cobblestone side street, but in the sitting room of a cozy flat, with a large fireplace and an entire wall of bookshelves. Frowning slightly in confusion, he glanced down at the petite brunette still tucked securely against him and saw a nervous yet almost-defiant look on her face, her eyes watching him carefully as he figured it out.

“Your flat?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I thought you wanted to call it a night?” Draco was unsure how to respond, warring with himself between caution and elation.

“I changed my mind,” she shrugged, still not moving from his embrace.

“Okay,” he said slowly, allowing himself to take in his surroundings for a moment before meeting her gaze again. “Well, here we are,” he borrowed the phrase from earlier, hoping to gain some bearings in this unexpected turn of events.

Hermione chuckled and leaned her forehead against his chest, huffing a breath as she explained, "I'm not planning for us to do anything really, no shagging or…or anything.” She tilted her head up, her chin now resting on his sternum, “I just wasn’t ready to let you go yet. I hope that’s okay?”

“It’s more than okay,” he beamed at her, “I’m perfectly happy to stay here and not do anything with you.” She snorted and they both laughed and finally stepped apart. She waved him towards the couch, inviting him to get comfortable while she made them some tea. He complied at once, settling in and grinning to himself at the incredible way his night had turned out.

ooOoo

Sunday morning, Narcissa breezed through the door of the sunlit breakfast room, ready to enjoy a cup of tea and quiet read-through of the paper when she was brought up short by the appearance of her son. While she and Draco typically shared breakfast on the weekdays, he was rarely up and functioning so early on his days off, much less wide awake and with a smile on his face.

“Good morning, dear,” she said lightly, making sure her surprise was well hidden but continuing to watch him curiously. Yes, he was definitely smiling as he nodded to her while spreading an obscene amount of marmalade on an already-buttered roll. If she wasn’t mistaken he was actually _humming_ quietly to himself. Intensely perplexed by this anomaly, she set about preparing her own plate and beverage, knowing that if he wished to talk about what had put him in such a good mood, he would in his own time.

Several minutes passed in wordless companionship as they each focused on the food before them, the elegant witch wondering how to go about getting to the bottom of whatever was happening with her normally-reserved offspring, when Draco spoke.

“How was your day yesterday, Mother? You visited Andromeda, correct?” His pewter gaze flickered between her and his breakfast, a smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yes, I did, and it was lovely, thank you,” Narcissa decided to just play along, letting him steer the conversation. “Teddy is such a sweet boy. It’s hard to believe he’ll start primary school next month.”

Draco hummed in acknowledgement of her statement as he poured himself a second cup of tea, “Has he mastered any other changes besides his hair yet?”

“Actually, he has,” Narcissa smiled as she recalled her visit the day before. “He can change his nose and his eye color now, too. He told me he’s been working on his ears lately.”

Again, the Malfoy heir made a noise of understanding while scooping fruit into a small bowl. Deciding it couldn’t hurt to make an inquiry of her own, Narcissa settled on a vague, generic question.

“And how about you, dear? What did you do yesterday?” If she hadn’t been watching his face surreptitiously while cutting a bite-sized piece of ham she might have missed the glint in his eyes or the grin that flashed across his face before he cleared his throat and schooled his features back to something less telling.

“I didn’t get in till rather late Friday,” he admitted with a shrug, “Though it was really Saturday morning by then, I suppose. By the time I went to bed the sun was coming up, so I slept well into the afternoon.”

“Sounds like the end of your work week was eventful, then.” It was spoken as a statement, though she hoped he’d take it as an invitation to expound. After a handful of heartbeats during which Draco chewed on a piece of bacon while staring thoughtfully at nothing, he indulged her.

“I met Blaise and Theo at the Leaky after work, as per usual, but spent most of the evening talking with someone else.” Again his lips quirked up in a smile, his eyes took on a softer shade, and unless she was much mistaken, Narcissa was positive the _someone else_ was a witch. A very specific, extremely intelligent, impressively powerful, Muggleborn witch.

“Oh?” She kept her voice carefully neutral though she was itching to know the details.

“Mmhmm,” Draco nodded around a mouthful of eggs and met his mother’s pointed stare for the first time since she’d sat down. A teasing smirk spread across his handsome features and she knew that he knew exactly what he was doing. She huffed in annoyance and stabbed a piece of pineapple with a little more force than proper decorum allowed, earning herself a low snigger from her impossible son.

“Yes, Mother,” he grinned and sat back in his chair, “I spent the majority of my Friday evening and Saturday morning in the company of one Hermione Granger. We talked, had drinks, danced, went back to her flat where we had tea and talked some more. It was quite enjoyable.” He tried to play it off as no big deal, but he couldn’t stop the widening of his smile or the quickening of his heart as he thought about the hours they’d passed on Hermione’s overstuffed sofa discussing everything from their Hogwarts days to favorite books to places they’d like to travel. Time had never flown so quickly, and before he’d known it the sky was starting to lighten with the dawning of a new day. Reluctantly, she’d told him she needed to get at least a couple of hours of sleep before making an appearance at the Burrow for Charlie’s birthday celebration.

She’d walked him to the door and the woven mat that served as her apparition point, stopping to gaze up at him with such warmth and happiness swirling in her expressive brown eyes that he’d felt like he could drown in them. He’d wrapped her in an embrace and buried his face in her soft curls, memorizing their sweet floral scent and the way she felt in his arms. When he’d pulled back she’d rested her hand on the back of his neck and gently pulled his face to hers for a goodnight, or perhaps good morning kiss. It was soft and sweet, but tasted like the promise of something more and ignited a fire in him he never wanted to douse. The sleepy smile on her face had made it extremely difficult to leave, but he’d promised to owl soon and see her first thing Monday.

Draco didn’t share all of these details with his mother, but he said enough for her to see with complete clarity just how smitten he was with the young woman, and her heart was filled to bursting with joy. She knew he doubted his worth, his place in society, his ability to move beyond his past on a daily basis, and was absolutely positive that if anyone could help him realize his full potential, it was the Brightest Witch of the Age. Not wanting to pry or make it seem like she was pushing for anything more, she simply murmured a benign pleasantry and turned her attention to the morning’s edition of the _Prophet_.

ooOoo

Draco spent the rest of his Sunday going over the details for the Rathlin Island project that he happened to have on hand. While he was always prepared and prided himself on maintaining a wealth of knowledge on any assignment he was given from the off, he was particularly determined to have his thoughts in order for this one. Knowing he’d be working with Hermione, possibly for several weeks, filled him both with deep satisfaction and nervous apprehension. They had been partners for over a dozen projects throughout the last several years, but none of those came on the heels of the kind of interaction they’d just had. He wasn’t entirely sure what to expect.

He knew she was an exemplary Ministry employee, her work ethic and moral compass setting the standard for most of the people who spent their days sharing those hallowed halls, and was positive that nothing in that vein would change in the slightest. However, he wondered if she’d be more familiar with him when it was just the two of them in the office; wondered if she’d call him _Draco_ like she did Friday night, or if she’d mind terribly if he kissed her when the door was closed. He snorted to himself and shook his head, knowing he was acting like a teenager with a crush, but he couldn’t bring himself to care overmuch. He’d not had many chances to moon about after girls during school, and after the war the majority of the witches he encountered wanting nothing to do with a former Death Eater, not that he’d been interested in any of them, anyway.

Theo had been right – he’d been rather obsessed with Hermione back in school, and had taken a fancy to her since she spoke at his trial. At first, he knew it was a mild form of hero worship, putting her on some sort of pedestal and feeling like he owed her the world for helping him escape life in a cell. As time went on, however, he grew to see her for who she truly was and admired her tremendously. She was tenacious, unwaveringly loyal, brilliant, powerful, friendly, and kind, and the more he learned about her the more he wanted to know. Of course, never in a million years did he ever think he’d get the chance to be anything beyond an acquaintance or a once-in-a-while work partner. He’d basically resigned himself to watching from the sidelines as she married Weasley, freed all the House Elves, and eventually took over Wizarding Britain. Apparently fate had other plans and he wasn’t complaining.

They had spoken at length in the wee hours of the morning about her relationship with the red-headed wizard. She explained the expectations they’d both been saddled with in the wake of the war, and admitted that she truly did love Ron, just not the way she needed to in order to build a life with him. Weasley had agreed wholeheartedly, and they’d parted on perfectly amicable terms, though had kept up appearances for the better part of the last year. Hermione had also confessed, her cheeks blushing and her eyes fixed on the mug of tea clutched in her hands, that she had been hoping Draco would approach her that night at the Leaky and had specifically carved a path near him when she arrived. That confession had bolstered his confidence even further, which was saying something because he was feeling rather smug about the fact that she’d basically kidnapped him in the first place, and he didn’t hesitate in the slightest before swooping in to capture her lips in what turned out to be their longest, most intense snogging session of the night.

Coming back to the present, he realized he’d completely lost track of what he was doing as he shook himself out of his reverie and focused his gaze back on the papers in front of him. He was going to have to do a much better job of staying on task if he was to accomplish anything once they were actually in the same room, if the mere thought of her stole his attention so thoroughly. He grinned to himself and dove into his work, looking very much forward to the start of a new work week and contemplating how soon was too soon to ask her out on an official date.

ooOoo

Monday morning rolled around, bringing with it a muggy oppression that often accompanied late summer days, and the dark clouds on the horizon held the promise of more than a light shower. Draco couldn’t have cared less, nor did he attempt to hide the slight bounce in his step or the smile that kept tugging at the corner of his mouth. He felt like he was eleven all over again and it was his first day at Hogwarts; excited, nervous, jittery, and anxious to get started. Of course, back on that actual first day he’d shown none of those emotions, having perfected the traditional Malfoy sneer of indifference and following his father’s instructions not to let anyone guess how he felt about anything. He’d long abandoned that rubbish line of rhetoric, along with all the rest of his father’s twisted ideologies and selfish ambitions, and had to stifle a laugh at the thought of how Lucius Malfoy would react to his son’s current situation.

He strolled into his office, intent on grabbing a few things before heading off to Hermione’s, when he was halted by the presence of both Theo and Blaise lounging in the chairs in front of his desk.

“Again, gentlemen? Should I prepare myself for regular early morning appearances from the two of you here?” he snarked as he rounded his desk, arching a brow at them as he placed his files down and settled into his own seat.

“Well, we didn’t hear from you all weekend, so we were just wondering…” Theo let his non-question hang in the air between them.

“Yes, we’ve been very curious about how the rest of your Friday evening went,” Blaise tagged on, smirking at the pale blonde rather pointedly. Draco played innocent.

“Not sure what you mean,” he frowned slightly and made a show of trying to remember what might have been interesting about the night in question, tapping his forefinger on his chin and humming in consideration.

“I’m sure we saw you leave with a certain brunette witch,” Theo hinted.

“After quite a display on the dance floor, mind,” Blaise chimed in.

“I didn’t dance with Pansy,” Draco feigned bemusement, “She’s the only brunette I usually associate with when we,” but Theo had finally had enough.

“Oh, come off it!” he whinged. “You looked like you were trying to suffocate yourself in her hair, which I suppose might be possible, but still! We saw you,” he gestured wildly between himself and Blaise, “wrapped around her like Devil’s Snare and then a short while later you were out the door without so much as a ‘ _by your leave’_.” Theo’s wide-eyed rant over, he slumped in his chair with an expectant look on his face, echoed by the dark-skinned wizard beside him.

Draco stared at his two best friends owlishly for a heartbeat or two before breaking into a massive grin, leaning back and crossing his arms with an air of smugness that even made _him_ feel like a smarmy git, but he couldn’t help it.

Theo, always the demonstrative one, jumped to his feet and punched his fist in the air before pointing demandingly at Draco, “You _did_ go home with her!”

He put his hands up in a show of surrender and cast a warning glance at his two mates before shutting his office door with a wave of his wand.

“Yes, but not like that,” he began. His willingness to start talking mollified Theo who sat back down and both he and Blaise fixed the Malfoy heir with interested stares, waiting impatiently for him to go on.

“I’m going to assume, since you apparently had nothing better to do than watch my every move that night, that you saw us talking at the bar for a bit?” They both nodded. “And then we danced to a couple of songs.” More nodding, accompanied by grinning. “Then we went back to the bar and chatted a while longer, during which time she told me she actually put in a request for us to work together on the Rathlin project. Oh, and that was the first time she kissed me.” Theo’s jaw actually dropped comically and Blaise leaned forward offering his fist for Draco to bump in congratulations.

Knowing what they were really after, he decided not to be difficult, “After that, I offered to walk her to the apparition point, but when we got there she sort of… brought me home with her.” He shrugged with a sheepish grin, but Theo had leapt to his feet once again, gaping like a fish while Blaise, who was normally much more composed, goggled at him for a second before busting out in raucous laughter.

“She _kidnapped_ you?” Theo’s voice was much higher than usual as his eyebrows disappeared into his fringe.

Draco shrugged, the smug smirk back on his face as he let his friends comprehend this bit of news. It was like they were back in their dorm after the Yule Ball, gossiping about everyone they saw, and teasing each other over their observations regarding certain witches. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so light and carefree, or even simply so happy. Theo settled back into his chair and Blaise composed himself enough to ask a question.

“Did she say anything? Explain?”

“Said she wasn’t ready to let me go yet,” he couldn’t help the smile that spread widely, though he tried to pass it off as if it was inconsequential. His friends saw right through him, however.

“Wasn’t ready?” Theo was incredulous, “So… so she _likes_ you? Already? I mean, I know she and Weasley were over a while ago, but she actually _fancies_ you?”

“Seems to,” Draco cocked his head and decided on full disclosure, “Also said she’d hoped I would approach her that night. That she came near our table on purpose.” He wasn’t usually one to spill details or get overly personal, but it was worth it for the reaction unfolding before him. Blaise looked like Christmas had come early, and Theo seemed frozen on the spot.

“She’s got a bit of Slytherin in her, she does,” Blaise murmured sagely.

“Bet she’s got more than a bit of it in her now that,” Theo was on the verge of innuendo when Draco cut him off with a warning glare.

“No, none of that. There was no shagging. Not even close. And I don’t plan for that to happen any time soon. We talked, for hours, but that’s all that happened,” he stated firmly and knew they understood that he’d tolerate no raunchy comments about his witch.

 _His witch_. That thought brought a soft smile to his face and a slight blush to his cheeks, neither of which went unnoticed by his companions.

“That’s _all_?” Theo pressed.

“Well, a bit of snogging, but nothing more,” he waved his hand as if dismissing it all but he knew he’d just thrown the dogs a bone.

“How much snogging?”

“Is she any good?”

“Are her curls as soft as they look?”

“Was there tongue involved?”

“Does she make any cute little noises?”

“Do you think she’ll,” but he finally cut them off.

“Enough,” he laughed as he held up his hands to ward off any further barrage. “To answer your ridiculous questions: a fair amount, what do you think, yes, yes, and I’m not giving you those kinds of details.” He ticked off his responses on his fingers and then glared at them in mock severity. “Seriously, I really, _really_ don’t want to jinx this or muck it up before it’s even begun.” Both Theo and Blaise nodded in understanding, though still watching him with curious admiration.

“So, what now?” Theo asked.

“Well, I’m supposed to meet her in her office soon.”

“Have you talked to her since you left her flat?” Blaise arched a brow at him.

“I owled her late Saturday afternoon telling her how much I enjoyed the time spent together and that I was looking forward to working with her on this assignment.” Draco huffed a small resigned breath, “I didn’t want to come off as too eager or clingy or what have you. It seemed enough of a gesture, since she wrote back saying she hoped there’d be more late-night conversations in the future.”

Theo gave a low wolf whistle, “Mate, this is it. You’ve arrived. You’re officially in a relationship with the Gryffindor Princess.” Blaise chuckled and nodded in agreement and Draco couldn’t help the low humorous rumble that escaped as he considered the words spoken in jest.

“I’ve no idea what she expects, and I have a hard time believing she’d truly want anything long-term or serious with me. I’m honestly just happy she’s giving me the time of day.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Blaise interjected with quiet encouragement. “Obviously she’s interested if she entered the Leaky on Friday with the intention of putting herself in your path. Somehow I doubt the Brains of the Golden Trio does anything she doesn’t fully mean to.”

Theo was nodding vehemently and Draco felt bolstered by it all, thankful for his friends’ support and hoping to Merlin they were right. In any event, he needed to get to his meeting with the subject of their idle conversation, and he wasn’t about to show up late on the very first day.

“Well, I thank you both for your words of wisdom and inspiration and promise to keep you well informed of any new developments. However, I am now expected on Level Four in about six minutes, and I’d prefer not to keep my lovely colleague waiting,” he flashed a roguish smirk accompanied by a wink as all three of the young men stood and made their way to the door.

“Floo later?” Theo asked.

“If I must,” Draco agreed with a long-suffering sigh and roll of his eyes, though he shouldered the lanky brunette in teasing as they all set off down the corridor.

“You must,” Theo insisted and Blaise nodded. With one final wave, the two visitors entered a descending lift, while Draco stepped onto an ascending one.

ooOoo

Hermione greeted him with a radiant smile that warmed him from his head to his toes as he breezed through her office door just a few minutes later. All nerves regarding their first encounter since the weekend vanished the moment he laid eyes on her. There was a familiarity there, based on an established work-related history, but there was also a deeper sense of _knowing_ , if that made any sense, one he attributed to the lengthy conversation they’d had and the obvious spark that had ignited between them. They worked seamlessly together and made great headway on the case, all the while continuing a dialogue often infused with flirtatious banter and snarky comments.

Draco worked up the nerve by the end of the first day to initiate the tiniest bit of physical contact. They were organizing stacks of notes based on what they’d already reviewed versus what hadn’t been gone over, and both happened to come around to the same side of the small work table. Hermione was pointing out a discrepancy in one document, while trying to locate another she knew would refute the information. He spotted it in a stack on her other side and reached across her to get it without thinking, putting himself directly in front of her, his torso pressed up against her arm. His eyes flew to hers and found her halted mid-sentence and rather flustered, so he took advantage of the moment to slowly bring his arm back, sliding the sought-after file on top of the one she was reading without breaking his gaze.

“I think this is what you were looking for,” he tapped the paper lightly and smirked as she just blinked at him several times before glancing down to see what exactly he’d given her.

“Oh! Yes! Thank you,” her voice was a little higher than usual and he couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped him as he drew himself back up to full height and gently ran his hand down her arm as he scooted behind her to move back around the table. He looked over his shoulder at her just in time to see her eyes drift slowly open, meaning she’d closed them at some point while he was closest, and that gave his ego another boost. Though their interactions remained nothing less than professional, he felt a distinct shift, a certain energy in the air between them now that hadn’t been there in years past, and knew if he wasn’t careful he’d be locking and silencing her office and running the risk of getting sacked for completely inappropriate activities in the workplace.

Speaking of Hermione’s office, it was smack in the center of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, her door always wide open, with a steady stream of memos and coworkers coming in and out throughout the day. Draco was used to this from their previous assignments, though he found himself getting just a tad bit annoyed when yet another department member stopped by to ask a “quick question.” While most of the inquiries seemed valid enough, a few were bordering unnecessary, some in particular were downright nonsense, and the majority of them were asked by blokes who kept one eye on him while directing their words to the petite brunette in the room. After what must have been the twentieth interruption the afternoon of their third day together, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“You’re quite popular of late,” he arched a brow at her and enjoyed the blush that crept up her slender neck and turned her cheeks pink.

“Yes, well, you know, they just needed clarification,” she waved a hand dismissively but couldn’t quite bring herself to meet his molten stare.

“Oh, yes, obviously. I’m sure Corner couldn’t ask _anyone_ else about the Centaur population in Braemar, and McClaggen _definitely_ didn’t already know about the passing of the Goblin Equality Act that was featured in four days’ worth of _Prophet_ editions last week,” he rolled his eyes theatrically and flashed her a teasing smirk, which she caught as she peeked at him through her lashes.

She shook her head and gave an exasperated huff, “They all know by now that Ron and I split.” She didn’t need to elaborate further and he gave a low snigger in response.

“Shall we take bets to see how long before one of them actually works up the nerve to ask you out?”

“Well, that depends,” she met his gaze fully and crossed her arms, pinning him with a contemplative look that made his stomach clench.

“On what?” he managed to croak.

“On whether or not I’ll be attached any time soon. That would deter them, you know.” Her eyes narrowed and a tiny smirk tugged at her lips as she watched him register her meaning.

He blinked owlishly at her, his brain racing to keep up with the possibilities that presented themselves. While he’d absolutely intended to ask her out, he wasn’t sure she’d welcome the attention being with him in public would surely draw, especially so soon after her supposed break-up. He found his breathing had become rather shallow and forced himself to calm down and return to his normal façade of unruffled ease.

“True, that might fend them off,” he pretended to consider this, meeting her whiskey-colored eyes and his heart skipped a beat. Deciding to sod it all, he took the leap, “Perhaps if you were seen eating dinner this evening with an eligible wizard, it would send a certain message.”

“It probably would,” she nodded, her focus never wavering and he knew she was going to make him do the thing properly.

“I suppose I could assist in that,” he shrugged and winked at her and was rewarded with the widening of her eyes and a definite twitch of her lips. “Would you care to have dinner with me tonight? There’s a very nice bistro at the end of the block that serves a delicious chocolate torte.”

Her gaze sparkled and a beaming smile graced her visage as she nodded, “I’d love to. For the chocolate torte, of course.”

“Of course,” he sent her a facetious smirk before turning his attention back to the parchments spread out between them, his heart galloping away and his entire nervous system feeling like fireworks were being set off. He heard her let out a soft chuckle as she set her mind to the task at hand, and in mere seconds they were back in work mode, though both were surreptitiously keeping an eye on the clock, eagerly awaiting the end of the day.

When the five o’clock bell chimed, they were in the middle of comparing notes from two different sources regarding a census taken on the Kelpie herd in question. Jotting down a few more thoughts, Hermione tossed her quill aside, stretched, and flashed an eager look his way.

“Ready to go?” she asked, smiling shyly and fiddling with her watch.

“Absolutely,” he grinned as he stood and strode to the door, gesturing for her to proceed him.

“I’m just going to make a quick run to the loo,” she hastened to explain as they began walking towards the lifts. He nodded and figured he’d do so as well, taking the opportunity to make sure his hair was still adequately styled and that his tie was straight. He made his way back to the lifts to wait for her and turned when he heard her approaching

His breath caught as he took in the sight of her. She had transfigured her work clothes, a pleated navy skirt and light rose-colored blouse, into a fitted navy dress with pale pink flowers scattered here and there. It was sleeveless, with a rounded neckline and a hem that just barely reached her knees. She’d let her hair down from the loose bun she often wore it in during the week, and her curls sprung free around her face, cascading over her shoulders. He thought she was beautiful no matter what she wore or how she styled her hair, but knowing she’d taken the time to make these changes especially for _him_ struck a chord deep within. Her eyes were dancing with anticipation and he let his gaze rove appreciatively from the top of her head to the tips of her navy pumps and back up again, finally resting on her face and feeling like his heart might just leap out of his chest from sheer happiness.

He offered his elbow and she giggled delightedly as she looped her hand through it. The lift opened and they stepped inside, joining several other Ministry employees already on their way out for the day. They garnered a few curious stares, but neither of them paid any mind, perfectly content in their own little bubble of shared excitement. This continued as they crossed the gleaming floor of the atrium and made their way out the main doors of the vast establishment, conversing quietly and sharing occasional glances and smiles that any onlooker could only assume belonged to a couple absorbed in one another to the fullest extent.

They strolled down the sidewalk, barely aware of their fellow pedestrians, still discussing various points about the project they were tackling, and not until the striped awning of the restaurant came into view did Draco insist on a change.

“Alright, no more work talk for the rest of the evening,” he said with mock sternness. “While the mystery surrounding the Kelpies’ sudden departure from the norm is fascinating, I would like to hear more about you - Hermione Granger, the incredibly talented, unquestionably brilliant, and utterly captivating witch - and not about the magical creatures you have tirelessly devoted yourself to helping.” His winsome smile gave truth to what otherwise might have seemed like a blatant attempt at flattery, but he truly did want to know everything about her and didn’t think he could consider a single, trivial fact to be unimportant.

She blushed and stared fixedly at the ground as they took the last few steps to reach the door of the quaint eatery. Thankfully, it wasn’t crowded and they were seated right away at a corner table in the back of the patio. Hermione was still refusing to make eye contact, and was nibbling her lower lip while concentrating on unfolding her napkin as if it was the most important task of the day. When she couldn’t avoid it any longer, she peeked at him through her dark lashes, her cheeks still stained a rosy hue.

“I’m not sure what to tell you. I’m really not all that interesting,” she shrugged.

“That might just be the biggest load of Hippogriff dung I’ve heard in a long time,” he deadpanned and fixed her with a piercing stare. “I’ll help you out, tell me something you grew up believing was a myth or a fairytale that turned out to be at least partially true once you entered the magical world.”

Hermione was immediately intrigued by the question he posed and, forgetting all about her earlier discomfort, started wracking her brain for a suitable answer.

“Well,” she started slowly as several thoughts were trying to push their way to the forefront, “Obviously the concept that witches or wizards or magic existed at all, to start with.” She grinned and he basked in the light dancing in her eyes as she spoke animatedly about the world she’d grown to love. “But there are quite a number of things I was surprised to learn were real, like unicorns, for example. Those feature quite regularly in Muggle fantasy stories, and I had several books growing up that contained beautiful illustrations of them. I always wanted one for a pet,” she admitted sheepishly and Draco smiled as he imagined a younger version of his dinner date placing a daisy chain around the neck of the pure white creature.

“I also used to pretend I could make these concoctions, potions I guess, that would change things. I would spend hours at the kitchen table adding food coloring and spices to water or milk in tiny containers, and then I would pretend something would happen if I drank it or put a drop of it on something.”

Draco had propped his chin in his hand, his elbow on the table, as he listened to her with rapt attention. He could see her clearly in his mind’s eye and found it adorably endearing.

“What were some of the things your potions could do?” he couldn’t help his curiosity.

Hermione gave a small huff of laughter, “Oh, a drop of the purple would give my doll the ability to fly, or a sprinkle of the green made my cat talk. She loved that, of course.” She rolled her eyes and continued, “More often than not, I pretended to change things about myself: got rid of my freckles, turned my eyes blue, straightened my hair.” She shrugged, “All the things I believed would make me look like a princess or a fairy or some other beautiful being.” Her voice grew softer as she finished her thought, whether because she was embarrassed by her admission or lost in contemplation, Draco wasn’t sure, but neither reason was enough to stop his automatic response.

“You’re already beautiful. You don’t need to change a thing,” his words came out quiet and low but undoubtedly sincere. Her expressive eyes swirled with a mixture of skepticism and yearning, as if she wanted very much to believe him but wasn’t sure she could. He wasn’t used to being so open with his thoughts or feelings, but he needed her to know he wasn’t just trying to impress her with flowery words. “I hope you believe me. And I hope you’ll give me a chance to prove it.”

She glanced down at her napkin again, which she had taken to twisting out of nervous habit and a second or two passed before she summoned the courage to meet his gaze again. Finding nothing but sincerity in his hopeful expression, she nodded as a shy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“I’d like that,” she admitted quietly.

He wanted to whoop in celebration, wanted to turn to the other patrons nearby and ask if they’d heard her acceptance, but instead he opted for flashing her a genuine grin and opening his menu with a flourish.

“That’s settled then. What shall we order?”

ooOoo

The rest of their dinner was wonderful. The food was delicious, the weather perfect, and the conversation effortless, but Draco’s favorite moment came almost at the end as they were sharing a piece of the aforementioned chocolate torte. They were both leaning forward towards the center of the table where the small plate sat with a steadily-disappearing piece of the rich dessert, talking privately and completely absorbed in one another. As a result, they didn’t notice a few familiar faces approaching from around the corner until the small group stopped a several feet away on the sidewalk.

“Hey, Hermione,” a voice jolted the unlikely pair out of their blissful oblivion.

“Harry!” Hermione was extremely surprised but no less pleased to see her best friend. “Where are you off to?”

Harry grinned, “Talked these lucky tossers into going to see the Lord of the Rings: Fellowship. It’s playing at the Lexi all month. The second one will play in October, gearing up for the release of the third near the hols.” He cocked his head towards his companions who were a combination of fellow Aurors and blokes who played on his Ministry Quidditch team. Among them was Cormac McClaggen who was glaring daggers at Draco over the Chosen One’s shoulder.

Hermione returned his smile, knowing just how fond the raven-haired wizard was of Tolkien’s stories and how much he enjoyed exposing his friends to Muggle forms of entertainment. She noticed Cormac’s angry countenance and almost laughed when Harry turned his attention to her date.

“Alright, Malfoy?” he asked genially.

“Most definitely,” Draco replied with a friendly grin that turned into a wicked smirk as he met Cormac’s scowl.

“Brilliant,” Harry looked between them and then at the single dessert with two forks before sending them a smug look and making a show of checking his watch. “We’d best be off. Don’t want to get stuck sitting in the back row.” He nodded and bid them both goodnight before herding his gang in the direction of the theater. They’d only taken three or four steps before a recognizable and belligerent voice piped up about being “on a date with _Malfoy_ ,” which sent Hermione into a fit of giggles and Draco couldn’t help but snigger along with her.

“I think you accomplished your goal for the evening,” she told him when she finally caught her breath.

“What’s that?”

“Fending off further interruptions during our workday.”

“Ah, yes. Quite right.” Draco adopted a professional demeanor, sitting up and straightening his perfectly not-crooked tie. “Can’t have you getting distracted by the parade of hapless, would-be suitors, can we?” He arched a pale brow and smirked at her.

Her eyes sparkled as she leaned towards him across the table, “What about keeping me from getting distracted by one particular suitor?” She tilted her head, watching his face for a reaction and though he managed to maintain an unruffled veneer in place, his insides had joined the circus as he registered her meaning.

“Obviously, that will be entirely up to you,” he sniffed in a superior manner, “Surely you can manage a modicum of self-control, yes? Regardless of how irresistible said suitor might be.”

The laugh that bubbled out of her was the most delightful thing he’d ever heard and it made his heart swell to know he’d caused it. _This._ This was what he’d wanted, what he’d dreamt about for months on end. This was the chance he’d been longing for, and he still couldn’t believe he’d been granted it. He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face and stayed there the rest of the evening.

ooOo

If the events of their first encounter had left them a little shy and optimistically awkward around each other in the days that followed, the aftermath of their first real date made them positively giddy. Draco felt like his cheeks might actually fall off from the constant grin that had taken up residence on his typically stoic visage, and he often found himself simply staring at Hermione throughout the day, to the point where he completely forgot what exactly he was supposed to be doing no less than three times in the span of one afternoon. Honestly, though, was it his fault that her movements were so graceful? Or that the little tunes she often hummed were so captivating? Or that her face was so expressive while she read through the documents and made notes on her findings?

He supposed it was official; he’d gone round the bend and become a starry-eyed sap, but he wasn’t fussed about it. So what if he enjoyed watching the way she pursed her lips when she was deep in thought, or found excuses to touch her hand or stand close enough to let his arm brush hers. Who could blame him? All his years of Slytherin subtlety flew out the window however, when he sighed – _actually sighed_ – after she’d laughed at something he’d said. Her eyes had flown to him and he froze as he realized what he’d done, worried that she’d think he was some sort of lecher, but instead she came around the table and leaned against the edge, right next to where he was sitting. She studied him for a second or two with a tiny smirk on her face and reached down to gently tug on his tie, wordlessly asking him to stand up. He complied and was rewarded with another one of her soft, sweet kisses; the kind that left him floating and dazed and utterly speechless.

“You don’t seem to be getting much work done,” she murmured against his lips.

“Nope,” he trailed kisses across her jaw and just below her ear as he whispered, “It’s all the fault of this beautiful witch who keeps distracting me.” He felt her shiver and high-fived himself in his head as he wrapped her in a firm embrace and buried his face in her curls.

“We’ve only an hour left,” she admonished, though the fingers toying with the hair at the back of his neck told him she didn’t really care much for their assignment at the moment. Ever the principled one though, Hermione pulled back just enough to meet his heated gaze, her own eyes glinting with a fire of their own, “How about we put in a solid effort till the bell, and then we can grab takeaway and head to my flat?”

“How about we just leave now?” he countered, pressing his lips to hers again and relishing the feeling of her melting into him as she returned the kiss with equal fervor. Of course, after a heartbeat or two she put a stop to it and stepped away and he immediately missed her warmth. She chuckled at the scowl he knew had appeared on his face as she caressed his cheek before circling back around to her side of the table.

“One hour,” she said it as both a reminder and a promise and he rolled his eyes as he thumped back down in his chair, “You know, I’d be ever so impressed if you finished correlating the statistics from the last five years before we go.” She said it matter-of-factly, but he could tell she was hinting at something by the way she was nibbling her lower lip.

“Really?” he played along, “How impressed?”

She shrugged delicately without looking at him, “I suppose you’ll have to wait and see.”

Draco had always prided himself on getting his way on his terms, never caving to paltry incentives or trivial bribes. In fact, he was usually the one issuing them in order to achieve his own ends, but all that had apparently vanished into non-being. With almost comical intensity, he threw himself into the task at hand, determined to exceed Hermione’s expectations by leaps and bounds. He was so diligently focused that for the next fifty-two minutes he registered nothing beyond the scratching of his own quill and the facts and figures spread out before him. When he reached the end of his research, his hand was cramped, his backside numb, and his neck sore, but he threw the eagle feather down on the parchment with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Done!” he announced.

A stunned pair of wide brown eyes met his triumphant grin and he crossed his arms smugly as he waited for her to comment.

“You finished it already?” disbelief colored her tone.

“Not only did I finish the correlation of the last five years, I also compared it to the statistics gathered from 1993 to 1998.”

Her brows all but disappeared into her curls and her mouth dropped open in amazement. She looked between him and the papers in front of him several times before extending a hand in request. He obliged and handed her the pages containing his work and took an obscene amount of pleasure from the way her eyes darted across the information and the subsequent look of incredulity that followed. When she reached the bottom of the document, she met his stare once more and he was slightly wary of the ferocity of her narrowed gaze and set jaw. She shot up out of her seat and stalked around the table. He followed her movements and swiveled his chair to face her as she planted herself directly in front of him, leaned down and grabbed his face between her hands, crashing her lips into his with a force that left him wide-eyed and flailing.

She pulled away just as abruptly, but didn’t let go, “You. Are. Brilliant.” Her breath was coming in erratic huffs, her eyes positively flashing with what he thought (and hoped to Merlin he was right) was desire and admiration. His chest puffed out with her praise and his heart felt like it was stampeding away as his smirk widened.

“So, I take it you’re impressed?” he teased.

“Most decidedly,” she responded in a low voice that shot straight to his core before bringing her lips to his again in a much softer, intentionally languid kiss that left him half-melted into a puddle before she straightened up and announced it was time to go. He didn’t need to be told twice.


	2. The Middle

Friday night Draco found himself back at the Leaky, at the exact same table he’d occupied the week before, accompanied by the exact same trio of wizards. He couldn’t help but consider how inordinately much could change in just seven days’ time.

“So,” Theo fixed him with a piercing stare once they’d ordered their drinks.

“So?” the tall blonde teased back.

“Come off it,” Blaise scoffed, “We’ve hardly heard from you all week, which tells me you’ve been otherwise engaged.” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned as Neville picked up on the thread of conversation.

“Things took off with Hermione then?” he asked genially.

Knowing he was not going to get away with simple, nondescript answers to the myriad of questions his friends were about to start peppering him with, he gave a long-suffering sigh and shook his head. This caused all three of them to look mildly worried, until a smug grin spread across his face, earning him a smack on the back of his head from Theo and several chortled expletives from the other two.

“You absolute wanker,” Theo groused, “Don’t do that to us!”

“Yeah, mate, I don’t need that kind of emotional turmoil,” Blaise shook a pointed finger in Draco’s face.

“I was gonna say,” Neville piped up, “Harry said he saw you two out for dinner Wednesday, and then Hermione told me you had a quiet evening in last night.” Draco groaned good-naturedly, knowing exactly what he was in for now.

Both of the other former Slytherins at the table looked thoroughly affronted at this bit of news and immediately glared at him.

“You took her out?”

“An official date?”

“You saw her _again_ last night?”

“ _Twice_ in one week?”

“Even Potter knows?”

“And you didn’t think to tell us _anything_?”

“Last we spoke was Tuesday and you just said things were _good_ ,” Theo sneered the adjective like it was offensive.

“Neville, thank you so much for providing these details. Apparently we don’t rate high enough on Draco’s list of important people to be told anything about the most monumental thing to happen to him since he was _released from Azkaban_.” Blaise’s voice grew louder as he spoke and though he was directing his words to the sole Gryffindor among them, his dark eyes never wavered from his former housemate.

“Oh for Godric’s sake,” Draco looked beseechingly up at the ceiling as if rescue might come swooping down, but no such luck. He returned his gaze to his companions, two of whom were scowling at him like he’d just insulted them to the highest degree, and the third having the decency to look mildly chagrined.

“Sorry,” mumbled Neville, “I just ran into Hermione this morning, and I didn’t even ask her anything specific about you, I promise, I only,” but Draco cut him off.

“No worries, Neville. It’s not your fault my other friends are basically eighty-year-old great aunts with nothing better to do than obsess over my love life,” he snarked, arching a brow at the meddling duo and choking back a laugh at their horrified expressions.

“I am not acting like a great aunt!”

“Should we apologize for caring about you?”

“I’ll have you know, I have my _own_ love life to focus on, thank you very much!”

“See if we tell _you_ anything from now on!”

“Need I remind you how you hounded us for _months_ about her?”

“It’s common courtesy is what it is.”

Neville was watching the exchange with obvious amusement, able to relax now that he knew he wasn’t to blame for anything, and Draco finally couldn’t contain himself any longer and bust out with a hearty guffaw.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough. I’ll tell you everything,” he spoke over their mutual diatribe.

Both Theo and Blaise froze mid-point, clearly nowhere near the end of their rant, but subdued by the fact that Draco was giving them his most apologetic look and holding up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Fine, but you’re also buying the next round,” Theo sniffed disdainfully and settled back in his seat more comfortably, Blaise nodding in agreement.

“Whatever makes you happy,” Draco smirked. He glanced around to make sure no one was obviously eavesdropping, and also to see if the subject of their current conversation had entered the tavern yet, but there seemed to be no sign of her riotous curls anywhere.

“Going back to our floo call Tuesday night, yes, things were good at that point, and are still good. Very good. Exceptionally good, if I dare say,” he allowed himself a smug grin as the four of them leaned in together conspiratorially. “Wednesday we went to Arnette’s after work, you know the place down on the corner with the striped canopy.”

“The one with the amazing chocolate torte?” Blaise asked.

“Is that what you were sharing?” Neville questioned and Draco just about slapped him when he was glowered at once again by the other two. Instead, he held up a single finger in warning, signaling he’d get to that in a moment.

Continuing on as if there’d been no interruption, “We enjoyed a lovely dinner, and happened to be sharing a slice of their famous dessert when Potter and his crew came walking by. Said they were going to the theater. McClaggen was with him.” Here, he snorted and rolled his eyes, “He’s one of the tossers who kept coming into her office, trying to engage her in conversation. Guess who hasn’t interrupted us for the last two days?”

All three of the blokes at the table laughed in understanding as Draco went on, “That night, I really did just walk her to the apparition point.” Theo groaned dramatically and Blaise interjected.

“What? No repeat kidnapping?”

Neville’s eyes widened at this and his face took on a confused expression, so Draco quickly caught him up on the events of the previous Friday night.

“Oh! Well, I assumed you went somewhere from here, since I saw you leave together,” he replied matter-of-factly and then gestured for the pale blonde to return to his story.

“Yesterday, after we finished up for the day, we picked up takeaway from that little Chinese place on the corner of Villiers and went back to her place.”

“And?” demanded Theo after a beat of silence, which Draco had been expecting and smirked at as he went on.

“ _And_ , she spent a good portion of the evening showing me just how impressed she was with my work on the case so far,” he couldn’t stop the coil of heat in his gut as he recalled the time they’d shared on Hermione’s couch again. That piece of furniture was quickly becoming one of his all-time favorites, but he forced his attention back to the trio in front of him, lest he get completely sidetracked replaying certain memorable moments in his head. His statement had garnered knowing looks and grunts of acknowledgement and he’d been so focused on their interaction the night before, he didn’t realize the very subject of his musings had appeared right beside him.

A light touch on his shoulder jolted him out of his reverie as Hermione was greeted by a hurried chorus of salutations and sheepish grins while Draco shot up from his seat fast enough to almost topple the table, sloshing their drinks and banging his knee on his way.

“You’re here,” he said stupidly, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face and basking in the sight of her. Even though they’d just parted ways less than two hours before, he felt like it had been far longer and wanted nothing more than to pull her close and ignore the rest of the world. Refusing to give into any behaviors that would allow cause for teasing or obnoxious remarks from the peanut gallery currently watching his reaction to her with ludicrous levels of interest, he simply placed a hand on her back and asked if she’d like something to drink.

The adoring gaze she flashed his way was almost his undoing. She nodded and bid a friendly farewell to his tablemates before making her way towards the bar. He tossed a glance back at his crew to find all three of them making dramatic faces and lewd gestures while laughing uproariously at their own antics, and spared them a singular smirk before following the object of his affection across the crowded space.

“Second Friday in a row,” Hannah greeted them with a smile and teased, “Must be serious.”

Draco wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, but the blush on Hermione’s cheeks made him feel better about his uncertainty. If he had his way, this would definitely be a serious, long-term thing, but he hadn’t wanted to pressure her for any sort of commitment only a week after they’d started… whatever this was. His pondering was interrupted by the former Hufflepuff asking if they’d like to be her testers for two new drinks she was premiering that night, and they both readily agreed. Sliding onto a pair of stools, he caught her looking at him and cocked his head in question.

She shook her head, “You’ll think I’m barmy.”

“Somehow I doubt that.”

She chewed her lip for a second or two and seemed to settle on what she wanted to say, “It’s only been a week since we started… this.” She gestured between the two of them and he nodded in understanding as she continued, “But it seems like longer. I feel like I’ve known you this way forever.” The open, honest expression on her face pulled at his gut and his heart was galloping like herd of Thestrals. Before he knew what he was saying, the words slipped out.

“I _want_ to know you this way forever.”

It was a whisper of a confession, but she heard it even over the loud, boisterous crowd surrounding them. Her deep brown eyes widened and he was momentarily terrified that he’d completely stepped in it and ruined everything in one, unguarded move, but a beaming smile bloomed across her features and he felt himself relax.

“Me too,” she said softly.

Letting his impulses take over once again, he leaned in and kissed her, knowing full well there were no privacy charms cast, and that more than a few people were mingling right around them, but he didn’t care. Apparently, neither did Hermione as she caught his face between her hands and held him in place for several blissful seconds. When they pulled apart, Hannah had returned with two drinks and was watching them with undisguised amusement.

“Right then, would you like me to tell you about the drinks you’re testing out? Or should I come back later?” the friendly witch sassed at them with a good-natured grin.

“Explain away,” Draco waved a hand towards the cocktails, “We’ll finish this later.” He glanced down at Hermione and gave her a flirtatious wink that earned him a delightful giggle and the prettiest blush on her cheeks.

“Good to know,” Hannah chuckled wryly and pointed to the first drink, a pale blue concoction that seemed to have a swirling mist hovering just over the surface of the liquid. “This is a _Cornish Pixie_. Colored just like its namesake, and made with peppermint schnapps, a splash of soda water, and blue curacao. It’s served extra chilled, hence the icy haze on top.” She slid it closer to Hermione, who picked up the glass and stared, impressed at the unique appearance of it. She took a small sip and shivered.

“Oooh, that’s good. Freezing, but tastes like a really strong candy cane, with a fruity tang at the end!” She turned and handed it to Draco, who tried it at once and mirrored the petite witch’s reaction.

“Wow, yeah, I think my insides are ice now,” he laughed and Hannah gave a pleased nod to both of them.

“Do you think it’s too cold? Or too minty?”

Her guinea pigs shook their heads fervently and insisted it was perfect just the way it had been prepared. She thanked them and slid the second cocktail towards them. This one was a more traditional looking one, dark brown liquid with several ice cubes floating within, though something red seemed to be sitting on the bottom of the glass.

“This is the _Bulgarian Bludger_ ,” she turned and grabbed a bottle of the shelf behind her and set it down on the bar top. It took the pair in front of her a heartbeat or two to register what they were seeing, but then Hermione exclaimed.

“Viktor!”

True enough, an image of the famous Quidditch player had been sketched in black on the white background of the label, his recognizable profile glowering towards an unseen point while large, bronze letters spelling the word “Borovets Bourbon” overlapped his shoulders and torso.

“What’s bourbon?” Draco asked, having never heard of it before.

“It’s an American whiskey,” Hannah explained. “Long story short, a Chaser on the Manhattan Manticores set up a distillery just like the Muggles use. Showed it to his cousin who’s a curse-breaker for the Bulgarian Ministry. He went back home and set up his own, but had no idea how to market it. So, he approached his old schoolmate, who just happened to be the one and only Viktor Krum, and it’s been flying off the shelves since he debuted it six months ago. I was on a waiting list and just got a case this week.”

“ _Flying_ off the shelves, haha,” the tall blonde drawled.

Hannah rolled her eyes and smirked as Hermione piped up.

“Borovets?”

“His hometown,” the barmaid explained.

“So what else is in this one?” Draco asked, eyeing the tumbler with interest.

“Mostly the bourbon, but there’s also a bit of cola, and the red ball in there is a candy called a fireball. Looks like a bludger,” she shrugged and grinned at the last bit.

“Cola?” he’d never heard of that either.

“It’s got fizz, like soda water, but it’s dark and tastes sweeter and… heavier? If that makes any sense?” Hermione looked at Hannah for a better description, but her friend nodded in agreement.

“That’s a good way to explain it.”

“Fair enough. Let’s have it,” Draco picked the glass up and took a sip. His eyes closed and he let out a deep breath as he put it back down. “Oh, that’s nice. It burns all the way down, but in a good way.” He grinned and passed the drink to Hermione who tried it and stifled a small cough after swallowing.

“Definitely burns,” she rasped.

Both Hannah and Draco laughed outright at the pained expression on her face, though the pale wizard assured the proprietress it was exactly as it should be.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” she indicated the two beverages they’d been discussing, “On the house for being my testers.” With a wink and a wave, she turned her attention to the other patrons at the crowded bar.

Hermione took a hasty sip of the blue concoction, presumably to cool her scorched throat, and heaved a relieved sigh afterwards, casting a sheepish look at the man beside her, “I’m not much for whiskey or some of the stronger stuff.”

“What do you mean? Vodka’s nothing to sneeze at,” he protested.

“Yes, but it doesn’t taste like anything,” she sniggered, “It doesn’t leave a trail of fire in its wake!”

“True. It’s an acquired taste,” he agreed as he sipped the amber liquid. Slate-grey eyes met chocolate brown for a fraction of a second before Hermione leaned towards him and brushed her lips against his, lingering long enough for his heart to slam into his ribcage but short enough to leaving him wanting more. Much more.

“I think I’ve acquired a taste for something else,” she whispered against his lips and he just about fell off his barstool. For someone who prided himself in being cool and unaffected by most things, and rather suave in his dealings with the opposite sex, the witch in front of him had a way of completely unraveling him and reducing him to a blithering pile of mush.

Before he could even attempt to formulate a coherent response she was kissing him again and he grabbed her hip to gain some purchase as the world around him tilted. Kissing Hermione was nothing like anything he’d ever felt before; it was dizzying and electrifying and made him lose his breath and find his purpose all at the same time. They’d snogged at length the night before, and it had been just as intense, just as overwhelming. He wondered if it would ever be less so and sincerely hoped not. Somewhere in the far corners of his consciousness, he remembered they were still at the Leaky, sitting at a packed bar and very much on public display. While that didn’t bother him in the least, the fact that she didn’t seem to care who saw them only served to boost his confidence and stoke the flames of optimism that this could really _be_ something between them.

Eventually, she pulled back and the wicked smile he’d grown to adore spread across her face as she peered at him through dark lashes.

“I don’t much feel like dancing tonight,” she remarked, her eyes roving across the throng of people filling the pub.

“We don’t have to stay,” he offered, arching a brow suggestively.

“Then let’s not,” her blazing stare pinned on him once more and he didn’t need a second longer to consider any other option. Downing their drinks and leaving a tip for Hannah, they slid off their stools and made their way to the door, fingers entwined.

Once outside, Draco turned and pulled her to him, peppering kisses along her jaw and wrapping his arms securely around her waist. She giggled at his exuberance at first, but the sound melted into a sigh as he reached the spot below her ear. The whole time he was steadily walking them backwards towards the alleyway where they could apparate but was so singularly focused, by the time he looked up, they had already passed the nondescript side street and were two doors down the next block.

Laughing at themselves, they retraced their steps, this time with Hermione insisting on leading the way so as to make sure they actually got there. In less than a minute they were no longer outside in the cool evening air, but in her comfortable flat where they fell onto Draco’s favorite couch and continued their non-dancing activities to a music all their own.

ooOoo

Saturday morning found Draco on the way to the field on the outskirts of Goring the Ministry teams used for Quidditch matches on most weekends from the end of March through the middle of November. Every department in the vast organization had its own team, but over the years as the popularity of the league increased, several multi-department teams had formed as well. Draco played on what was affectionately called the “Irks,” which stood for both the International Relations and Regulation and Control departments. As a result, he practiced and played with several members of Hermione’s staff, including Michael Corner, who had given him a wide berth in recent days.

He had loathed cutting his time with Hermione short the night before – Merlin that witch was going to make him lose his mind – but he needed to be in top form for the match if they were to win against Potter’s team. Something he had every intention of doing, not leastwise because Cormac McClaggen would be playing against him as Chaser. While Draco would prefer to play Seeker, he had joined the team several years after it had formed and took the only available spot. No matter, he knew Hermione didn’t care what position he played and had promised to come watch the match and cheer him on. She had informed him though, that she would be leaving at half-past two regardless of whether it was over or not since she, Ginny, Luna, Alecia, Katie, and several other girls were throwing a baby shower for Angelina that evening and needed to get over to the Burrow to set everything up.

As the teams started warming up, Draco was standing at one end of the pitch tightening his gloves when a shadow darkened his view. Looking up, he saw Marcus Flint, former schoolmate and house Quidditch captain, leering at him in a way that immediately put him on his guard. Flint rarely did or said anything for anyone’s benefit but his own, and found ways to stir up trouble on the regular. Unfortunately, today was no different.

“So, you’ve been keeping busy of late, Malfoy,” he drawled, clearly expecting Draco to ask what he was talking about. Instead, the tall blonde continued to fix his gear and simply nodded.

“That I have, Flint.”

“Busy with a certain Muggleborn witch?”

That got his attention. Flint didn’t often hang out at the Leaky with everyone on Fridays, nor did he have many friends in their department, and his role as a census taker for Wizarding villages and parishes outside the greater London area kept him out of the office a fair amount. He wasn’t someone people shared gossip with over tea, so Draco was extremely wary of how this knowledge had been obtained.

Leveling his gaze at the burly wizard he simply waited. After three or four seconds, Flint brandished the morning edition of the Prophet with great flourish, placing it right under Draco’s nose so there’d be no missing the half-page sized photograph of him and Hermione, topped by a blaring headline: _Gryffindor Golden Girl on the Rebound with Reformed Rebel?_ The picture had been taken as they were making their way to the apparition point from the Leaky the night before; those few extra steps he’d taken past the alleyway while kissing her. The magical loop that played showed them break the kiss, laugh at their mistake, and kiss again before retracing their steps.

While it was definitely eye-catching, and something he would have gladly looked at for much longer in the privacy of his own home, the idea that this was now gracing the breakfast table of all of Wizarding Britain sent him into a spiral of panic. He and Hermione had talked at length about a lot of things, but hadn’t yet broached the subject of what they were or where this was going. He skimmed the article that followed and his brain registered random phrases like _“sowing her wild oats,” “improving his reputation,” “sending a message to her ex,”_ and _“crash and burn.”_ It caused his hands to turn clammy and his heart rate to skyrocket, though he maintained a mask of calm as he pinned Flint with a lazy smirk.

“What of it?”

Flint huffed in annoyance, clearly having hoped to get under his fellow snake’s skin, “Are you together? Is this a thing? Or is she just looking for a good time now that she’s ditched that freckle-faced pauper?”

Draco’s temper flared, first and foremost at the degrading way Hermione was being spoken of, but also at the jab towards Weasley who had been nothing but civil to the Malfoy heir since his trial, and who had made quite a name for himself as one of the best new curse-breakers at Gringotts since his brother had joined the team over a decade earlier. He refused to dignify Flint’s obnoxious remarks with a response, instead thrusting the paper back at him and stalking towards his other teammates.

He tried – he really did – to compartmentalize; kept telling himself he’d just deal with it later, after the match when he had a chance to sit down and read it properly and talk to Hermione about it. His brain had other ideas, however, and by the time the first whistle blew he was in a completely internal, but no less full-blown come-apart. He was irritated by the breach of privacy, though it wasn’t exactly uncommon. Hannah had established a no-reporting policy within the walls of her tavern, and had set up impressively powerful and creative wards around the perimeter making it virtually impossible for any lurking journalists outside to take useable photos of patrons coming or going. Those wards extended to the apparition point, which he and Hermione had unfortunately gone beyond, hence the moment caught on camera.

A repetitious mantra drummed in his head about how he should have been paying more attention to where they were. He was extremely worried that Hermione would be upset about seeing herself splashed across the front page in such an obvious display. They hadn’t even discussed what they were between themselves, much less what they planned to say to their friends, and now the entirety of magical Britain knew they were – at the very least – some sort of Friday night hook-up. He wasn’t sure what her thoughts were on all of it yet, but it was definitely more than that for him. So much more. He only hoped the stupid article hadn’t just blown his chance with her.

As he zoomed about, high above the pitch, he spotted her on a blanket in the grass with Ginny and Luna. She was shielding her eyes from the sun, but clearly looking for something, and when she spotted him she waved and smiled. That made him feel slightly better, since he doubted she’d put on a good show if she was bothered by the publicity. There was, however, the off chance she didn’t even know yet. He remembered her making several scathing remarks about Rita Skeeter over the years and was pretty sure she didn’t actually take the paper at her flat. That possibility only served to send his marginally lifted spirits plummeting once more, as he had no desire to be the one to bring it to her attention, but didn’t see how he could feign ignorance.

The first time-out of the match was called almost an hour in, when Potter needed to fix a wobbly kickstand, and a bludger needed a tear repaired. As the players congregated in the middle of the field, he sought Hermione’s face once more and was rewarded with a beaming smile and a quick kiss blown in his direction. He sent back a lopsided grin and was wondering if he’d get to see her at all before she had to leave when Flint came up beside him and followed his line of sight.

“She come here to watch you play?” he sneered. “How cute. Wonder who she’s trying to make jealous?”

Draco was puzzled, “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s obviously not Weasley. He’s not even here. Plus, why would she want him back?” he snorted and continued, “I bet she’s got her eye set on some stodgy wanker from the Minister’s office. Or, who knows, maybe she’ll just work her way up the levels and…” Thankfully Flint’s unflattering commentary was cut short by Dean Thomas, their referee, blowing the whistle and shouting that the match was back on. For several heartbeats, Draco stood rooted to the spot, fury coursing through him as he registered what Marcus had been insinuating. That anger followed him back onto his broom and up into the air, where he flew recklessly and with little focus on the actual game.

Another hour passed and the elusive snitch was nowhere to be found, though both sides had racked up several goals apiece. Draco was rocketing towards the opposing team’s keeper, passing the quaffle to the other Chaser with lightning speed when McClaggen zoomed around him, cutting him off and forcing him to swerve off course.

“You’re playing shite today, Malfoy,” the burly Gryffindor taunted, “What’s the matter? She dump your sorry arse already?” Laughing loudly, McClaggen took off in the other direction, leaving Draco to stew over his words. That was part of the problem, wasn’t it? He was unquantifiably anxious about that very thing; that Hermione would realize what a gigantic mistake she was making by paying any kind of mind to him and walk away without a backwards glance. His dejected mood plagued him for the rest of the match, which lasted another two and a half hours, meaning Hermione left for the baby shower before the last quarter of the game was played.

His team was able to squeak out a win, no thanks to him and his distracted mindset, and as they congregated at the edge of the pitch happily congratulating themselves, he found his way blocked by Flint once again.

“Saw she left before the end,” he jeered, “Guess it wasn’t important enough for her to stay.” He waited a beat to see if Draco would respond, which he didn’t, simply staring at the horse-faced git with a blank expression. Flint shrugged and attempted an air of sympathetic camaraderie, “Well, enjoy it while it lasts, right? If there’s still anything left to enjoy.” He laughed at his own humor and sauntered off after punching Draco none-too-lightly in the arm. In turn, the tall blonde simply stalked off the field, not stopping when haled by other teammates, nor to loosen his gloves or guards, but marching purposefully to the edge of the wards so he could disapparate as quickly as possible.

Once he did, he arrived home at the Manor, directly in his own room and set about stripping off his Quidditch gear with slightly more force than necessary. He refused to let himself linger on Flint’s obnoxious commentary, refused to give any credence to anything the irritating wanker had said, or McClaggen for that matter. Neither of them knew what they were talking about, and at least one of them was saying it out of pure jealousy, perhaps even both of them were. Instead, he focused single mindedly on showering and changing, even going so far as to recite random potion recipes and historical magical facts in his head, hoping the litany would keep his mind from veering off to things he wasn’t ready to deal with yet.

After multiple attempts to read through the notes he’d brought home from the office, his eyes scanning the same passage repeatedly with nothing sinking in, he decided there really was nothing for it and he might as well succumb to the morbid curiosity and cauldron-full of self-doubt that had followed him around all day. The first thing he did was call one of the elves and ask for a cup of tea and that day’s edition of the Prophet. Then, he fixed himself a tumbler of whiskey, knowing the tea was really just a formality to make him feel better about drinking before dinner. Lastly, he sat down behind the desk in his study, took several deep calming breaths and reminded himself that he needed to approach this pragmatically and not to let his emotions run amok. The fact that he even had to say that in his own head made him snort with derision. Never in a million years did he, Draco Malfoy, think there would be a time when he would have to talk himself out of reacting emotionally to something. It simply wasn’t the way he was raised, wasn’t the way things were done in the cool, unaffected circles of Pureblood stoicism he’d been brought up in.

It just served to show how very much one particular witch had affected him, and how much of his world might come crashing down if this played out badly.

Once his resolve was firmly in place, and the tea and paper had been delivered, he sent one final plea to the heavens that it might not be as bad as he originally had thought, and started to read. By the time he reached the end of the page-long article – which seemed to waffle between questioning the war heroine’s choices, believing she deserved a bit of fun, expounding on his reformed ways, and reminding everyone he was once a Death Eater, even if not by choice – he was unquestionably relieved to find it honestly didn’t seem to be as damaging as he might have predicted. Clearly, he wasn’t anyone’s first choice for Hermione Granger’s romantic interest, but there was an underlying current of support for them that took the sting out of the more biased statements.

Feeling bolstered by the whole endeavor, he toyed with the idea of owling Hermione just to say he was thinking about her, but decided against it. He knew she was with the other girls celebrating Angelina’s soon-to-arrive baby and didn’t want to interrupt for something so trivial. He’d wait and see her Monday and maybe they could have a good laugh about the ridiculousness of it all.

ooOoo

Draco spent most of Sunday accompanying Narcissa on one of her many philanthropic missions. Shortly after the end of the war, it was decided that a children’s ward at St. Mungo’s would be a very beneficial addition to the Wizarding hospital. At first, the powers that be spurned any offers the Malfoy matriarch made to assist, not wanting the project’s name to be tarnished by its association with any connection to Voldemort whatsoever. Eventually, though, they grudgingly accepted her obscenely generous contributions once they understood she wished to remain anonymous. As time passed, those in charge of the operation grew to appreciate and respect the reserved and elegant witch, and believed wholeheartedly that she did not hold to the views her husband had, nor had she wanted anything to do with his allegiance to that snake-faced psychopath.

As a result, her input in various areas was sought with increasing frequency, and all big decisions and major changes were brought to her attention. One of the final pieces of the large and extensive puzzle encompassed an out-patient treatment center for children who needed the help of a mind healer, particularly in the wake of traumatic events. Interviews had been held and candidates selected, and this weekend was the official welcoming ceremony for those new staff members, as well as the unveiling of their offices and meeting rooms. Narcissa had been invited for a final walk-through of the facility before the other guests were to arrive, and she and Draco would be joining the new staff members for lunch, along with the board of directors and several prominent healers and advisors. Afterwards, they would attend the ribbon-cutting and afternoon tea.

The entire event was splendid, and though he didn’t typically enjoy that sort of thing, it pleased him tremendously to see his mother so happy, and so widely welcomed and held in such esteem by everyone they encountered. The ward was bright and cheerful, definitely designed with children in mind, and the newly hired professionals were well-spoken, compassionate, and excited to start their work. The best part took place during the official ceremony, where Narcissa had been asked to be the one to cut the wide, purple ribbon, symbolically opening the new facility. A velvet drape had been hung over the double doors, covering the name of the new space and wasn’t whisked away until the golden scissors she held snipped through the satin bow. Only then was the _Narcissa Malfoy Children’s Ward_ revealed.

Draco had rarely seen his mother cry, and absolutely never in front of others, especially those she did not know, but the tears that coursed unashamedly down her cheeks as she registered the words displayed before her were a testament to how deep her own transformation reached. She embraced several individuals he knew she’d grown close to during the project, and even accepted hugs, handshakes, and words of appreciation from total strangers. Her lips trembled and her cheeks blazed, but the radiant smile never left her face and he didn’t think he’d ever seen her looks so elated. He made a point to thank the director for bringing his mother alongside and was rewarded with a clap on the back and an abundance of praise for the amazing woman she was. He couldn’t agree more.

They returned to the Manor entirely wiped out from the long and emotional day, but pleased beyond words. He floated down the hall, carried by this current of good will, and stopped in his study to see if any owls had arrived or other messages received. Theo had floo called just before they’d returned home and he made a mental note to check in with him that evening before turning his attention to the Sunday edition of the Prophet which he’d not had time to look at before leaving for St. Mungo’s that morning. Thankfully, no scathing headlines appeared, or untoward photographs. In fact, neither he nor Hermione were mentioned anywhere at all, and his already-good mood steadily increased as he read through the various articles and stories. That is, until he reached the end.

In most printings of the magical periodical, the last quarter or so of the final inside page was reserved for letters to the editor: questions, complaints, retractions, and random bits of information related to previously printed stories. Today however, the entirety of the page was taken up with opinions of every sort regarding Saturday’s headlines. At first, Draco thought it was a joke, but the more he read, the more he realized the people who’d taken the time to respond were absolutely serious. Several thought the war heroine had earned her right to privacy and berated Rita Skeeter for invading her life in such a way. A few others thought the idea of the unlikely couple was sweet and uplifting in a post-war world. The majority though, seemed to agree with the author’s original byline, insisting Hermione was just acting out, a few even suggested she was under a love potion or the _Imperius_. Most were equally concerned about her frame of mind while morbidly curious about her attraction to the former Death Eater. They were all unified in one aspect, and that was that none of them spoke in his favor in the slightest. Not that he expected them to, but still. He’d been working at the Ministry for over four years now, ever since being acquitted and serving several months of probation. He had a large group of friends, many of whom overlapped with the Golden Trio’s circle, and was well-respected by his coworkers. Unfortunately, none of them seemed to feel the need to come to his defense in this particular matter.

He read every single one of the letters and he felt his confidence in his relationship with Hermione chip away with each line, leaving him completely dejected and hopeless at the end. They were right. This couldn’t possibly work. While he had no reason to believe the petite brunette wasn’t sincere in her feelings for him at the moment, there really wasn’t a plausible future for them, no matter how much he wanted it. He felt empty inside at the thought of not having her in his life in this way anymore, but his brain convinced him he should feel lucky he'd even been allowed the short time he'd already had. He hadn’t told her how deeply he’d fallen for her yet, which was a good thing. At least he’d walk away from this with a modicum of his dignity intact. They really should discuss this, though, especially now that everyone would be eyeing them for signs of “trouble in paradise” or whatever rot the _Prophet_ foretold of their doomed connection. He decided they should hash it out first thing in the morning, before diving into their project. Better to lay it all out on the table and decide the best course of action before going any further. If she wanted to keep things going for a while, causally of course, he could handle that, and if she thought it better to part ways romantically now and only remain friends and coworkers, he would swallow his pride and acquiesce to her request.

ooOoo

In an attempt to get the unpleasantness over with as soon as possible, Draco was several minutes early to the office on Monday morning. Surprisingly, Hermione wasn’t there yet. She usually beat him by a good fifteen or even twenty minutes, but for once, he was there first. He organized their files and documents based on where they’d left off Friday, and what they’d agreed needed to be accomplished today, and even went about getting large, steaming cups of coffee for both of them, feeling like it might be a necessary offering as he broached a sensitive subject.

Minutes ticked by, then an entire hour, and still no Hermione. He was starting to worry; she was never late. He kept rewarming her coffee, watching the door, but she neglected to appear. At two hours in, his brain kicked into overdrive and started barraging him with reasons why she might not be there. At first, reasonable excuses such as getting pulled into a meeting, or forgetting something back home, or even having an appointment she’d failed to mention crossed his mind. After a bit, unfortunately, less benign ideas took root. Perhaps she was furious about the article and had gone to give Skeeter a piece of her mind. Or, even worse, maybe she was angry with him over it and couldn’t stand the thought of working with him. Or, worst of all, she agreed with the readers who’d so vehemently spoken against him and was embarrassed by her association with him, to the point where she was now avoiding him entirely.

It was this last theme that continued to roll over and over in Draco’s head as he attempted to get something resembling work done, but it was useless. How could he have been so stupid, to think he’d ever be good enough for her? Why had he ever let it go beyond the dance floor that first night at the Leaky? He might have climbed out of the hole his association with Voldemort had dug for him, but he was still widely rejected amongst the general public. The faded mark on his arm would never fully disappear, just like the sins of his past would never fully be forgiven or forgotten. Of course she shouldn’t be with him, the Gryffindor Princess who helped saved the world, who everyone loved and admired, who was spending her career fighting for those who needed a voice. Merlin, he’d been so naïve to think for even a second that they could have something. She could have whatever – whoever – she wanted, and would deserve all the best the world could offer. Him? Not so much.

Draco had no idea how much time passed as he sat there, staring blankly out the charmed window in Hermione’s office. Over the course of the day, several people had stuck their heads in the door and after glancing curiously around at the one half of the team that was supposed to be there, scurried away again. Apparently they either only needed to speak to Hermione, or they knew better than to try to engage him in anything resembling a civil conversation. Lunchtime came and went, and shortly thereafter, he decided to give it up as a bad job and go home, thinking no one would care if he was there or not anyway.

ooOoo

On Tuesday, in drastic contradiction to his arrival the day before, Draco dragged himself into the office a few minutes late. He had no idea what to expect and was dreading an encounter with his partner. A small, cowardly part of him hoped she’d be gone again so he wouldn’t have to face her while still wallowing in shame and humiliation over the events of the last few days. His hope was in vain as he trudged through the office door to find her seated behind her desk. She looked up as soon as he entered, a bright smile on her face and a cheerful “good morning” on her lips. The greeting was so vastly opposite to his internal climate, and not at all what he was expecting from her, and he was caught completely off guard. Immediately on the defensive, he couldn’t stop the bite in his tone as he spoke.

“Nice of you to show up today.”

Her eyes flew wide, her jaw dropped and she stared at him in confusion as he stalked around to his side of the table, tossed his satchel on the ground, flung his robes over the back of the chair and plunked heavily down in it. He could feel her gaze still on him but wasn’t ready to look at her, now feeling rather foolish for his mini tantrum. It was an unfortunate coping mechanism of his, to turn ugly when he lost his footing, and Salazar’s skirts did he feel lost right then. She was acting like it was just any other day, like she hadn’t completely avoided him yesterday, like everything was just fine. How was he supposed to…

“Malfoy?” her voice was quiet as she studied him from across the room. He glanced up at her for a heartbeat before looking back down at the papers in front of him. The rustling of fabric told him she’d gotten out of her seat and was walking towards him. She stopped on the other side of the table and stood there for a few seconds while he pretended to read the blurred lines before him, and then lowered herself into the chair across from him.

“Draco, what’s going on?” her tone was gentle and concerned and his name on her lips did things to his stomach and his heart that he didn’t want to identify if this was all going to end. Knowing he was only prolonging the inevitable, he finally looked at her. Her chocolate eyes were warm and open, her brow crinkled in confusion as she watched him.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, deciding to just jump right into the mess, “Did you see the papers this weekend?”

She blinked owlishly at him a few times and cocked her head, clearly trying to figure out where he was going with this, “Yes.”

“The whole front page story about us?”

“Yes. What about it?” she looked genuinely bemused.

“What about it?” he almost yelled, “Now everyone’s seen us like…. it made you look like some… and then everyone’s response…” He dragged a hand down his face, unable to continue because his brain couldn’t put his self-demeaning monologue into words he was willing to say out loud.

“I don’t understand,” she said after a beat or two of silence, “Are you upset because of the nonsense Rita wrote? Or the things people said about it? Or because everyone now knows about us?”

In the far corners of his mind, a tiny spark of hope flared at her words “ _knows about us,_ ” because it wasn’t said in past tense, but present. However, the rest of his thoughts were still chaotic and awful and he grimaced and shrugged and shook his head before meeting her gaze once more.

“I didn’t know if you wanted people to find out,” he began but dawning realization had crossed her face by that point and she leaned forward and pinned him with a fierce glare.

“I couldn’t care less what that horrid woman prints about me. I never have, I never will. Nor do I care what anyone who believes the rubbish she passes for journalism has to say. I also don’t care who knows about us because I’m happy with you. Last week was one of the best I’ve had in a long time. I thought you were happy, too?” Her voice had gotten quieter, smaller on the last part, though her countenance never faltered.

“I am!” he hurried to assure her, “I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Happier than I probably deserve. I just don’t want you to be dragged through the mud because of me.”

“First of all, you deserve to be happy. Period. Second, as if that idiotic cow hasn’t dragged me through the mud before? If I could handle her when I was fifteen, I can definitely handle her now.” There was a fire in her eyes that stole his breath and he allowed that spark of hope to flicker a little brighter. Something shifted then, and a wariness stole over her as she regarded him, “But why were you angry with me when you came in?”

Draco’s heart sunk to his shoes. They had been going in such a good, positive direction and now he was going to have to unpack the tangled mess inside him that had caused him to assume the worst and expect nothing more. Before he could even begin to explain his warped train of thought, Hermione came to her own conclusion.

“Wait. You forgot where I was yesterday, didn’t you?” her tone had hardened and he wracked his brain trying to come up with even the tiniest hint as to what she was referring to as she continued, “You didn’t go to your own office, either, I presume?” At that, his brow furrowed in confusion. He rarely went to his office in the days since they’d started this assignment together, and usually it was to check… for… messages.

_Oh no._

“Let’s catch you up then, shall we?” Hermione’s eyes had narrowed and no longer held the warmth from moments before, “I told you last Thursday night that I would be spending Monday with Rolf on the coast in Ballycastle, where he’s been stationed for several weeks to observe the Kelpies.” She paused to see if this rang a bell, which it did. He vaguely remembered that conversation, but as it took place in between some rather intense snogging, it got lost in the shuffle along the way.

“I also sent you an owl first thing yesterday morning, instructing it to be left on your desk where I assumed you’d go before coming here. My mistake,” though there was no apology in her voice. His gaze had lowered to the table between them as she spoke and when she paused, he glanced at her, wanting desperately to defend himself but knowing he didn’t have a leg to stand on, and he had a horrible feeling of impending doom as she continued to scowl at him.

“I can’t rightly believe you would have been cross over me doing my job, so the only other possible reason for your ire this morning is that you thought I was absent for an entirely different reason,” she crossed her arms and arched a brow, clearly expecting a response. There was nothing for it now.

“I, yes, uh…” he cleared his throat and forced himself to look her straight in the eye as he felt his cheeks flush and his hands grow clammy. “I thought perhaps you were upset with me. That you didn’t want… that this wasn’t…” he heaved a great sigh. “Bugger it all, Granger, I thought you’d rather skip work than be seen with me and have to deal with the fallout of that article.” He said it all rather quickly, and with complete mortification lacing every syllable. Now that he’d actually admitted it out loud, it sounded mental and he knew this misunderstanding was entirely his fault.

He watched her as she processed his confession and though she was no longer glaring daggers at him, her expression wasn’t exactly warm and welcoming. If anything, it was disappointed. A lead weight settled in his gut as the silence between them stretched. Finally, she spoke and her tone was quiet, her words chosen carefully.

“Draco, I know we’ve got a lot of history between us, and we both come with quite a bit of baggage, but I wouldn’t have given you five seconds of my time that night if I wasn’t already one hundred percent sure this was something I wanted. The world might think I’m newly single, but Ron and I ended things almost a year ago, so I’ve had a lot of time to think about things. Do you think it was a coincidence that we worked on so many projects together? Because I’ll tell you right now, it wasn’t. I needed to spend more time with you, get to know you better, see if you were who I thought you might be under all your confident swagger and perfectly-pressed robes.”

She gave a small smile and his heart skipped but he stayed silent and still, not wanting to interrupt her or remind her what a wanker he’d been acting like.

“I think you need to decide what it is _you_ want,” the softness was back but her eyes were guarded and he found it hard to breathe. “There will always be reporters and articles, people who think their opinion matters, but I’m not about to let those things ruin my chance at something that could be really, really good. I would never have avoided you like that, and the fact that you thought I did hurts.”

He swallowed hard and nodded, wondering just exactly how he was supposed to put the myriad of thoughts and feelings swirling around inside him like a tornado into words, but she didn’t give him the chance.

“I think it might be a good idea for us to work separately for a bit.”

Silver eyes flashed to amber and he felt like his heart, which was still in the vicinity of his ankles, had turned to stone. He wasn’t used to laying himself bare, but he couldn’t let the conversation end this way.

“Granger, I’m…” he took a deep breath, “Hermione, please, I’m so sorry.” He leaned forward and sought her gaze, which had taken on a watery sheen and it felt like a kick to his ribs. “I was wrong. So, so, stupidly wrong. I immediately thought the worst of the situation, but never of you. Please, believe me.”

She sniffed and looked down at her lap, nodding just the tiniest bit. He gave her time to gather her thoughts, waiting with baited breath.

“I know you didn’t mean for it to come across like that,” she raised her chin and he felt like he could drown in the depths of her chocolate orbs, “I just need a little space right now. I’m afraid I won’t be able to get anything done with this lingering between us.”

He felt deflated. It must have shown on his face because she hastened to soften the blow.

“I’m not angry or anything. It just takes me a bit to work through things sometimes, and I do that better on my own.”

He nodded. What choice did he have? It wasn’t like he was going to refuse to leave and make it all worse than he already had. He started gathering the files he’d most recently been working on, trying his best to seem calm and understanding while a storm of regret and panic raged inside. Once he’d put everything he needed in his bag, he grabbed his cloak and moved around the table. Hermione stood and gently grabbed his arm as he drew close, forcing him to stop.

“Thank you,” she said in a low voice, her eyes still teary, but a small smile turning up her lips. He nodded again, wholly unable to choke out any sort of response. She let go and sat back down at the table, pulling several parchments towards herself, effectively dismissing him. He strode out the door and down the hall, not registering a single person or object along the way even as he entered the lifts and made his way to his own office.

Upon arrival, there in the center of his neat and orderly desk sat a small scroll. His pulse raced like it was some sort of cursed object, and he opened it before ridding himself of the items he carried.

_DM,_

_Don’t forget, I’m with Rolf today. I’ll share all his findings with you tomorrow!_

_HG_

_P.S. I might be impressed if you can finish up that proposal for the local Scottish authorities._

Draco let out a long, low groan and flung himself into his chair with his bag still over his shoulder and his cloak still bunched in his arms. He had really made a right mess of things, hadn’t he? Not only had he worked himself up over nothing, allowed his unflattering and deep-rooted tendencies to rule over his rationality, and basically accused the most amazing witch in the world of acting just like him (which was _not_ a compliment), but he’d apparently also ruined a chance to impress her, which he determined last week was now one of his most favorite endeavors.

Untangling himself from his belongings, he scrubbed his face with his hands and stared helplessly at the ceiling. How was he going to fix this? Did she even want him to fix this? She said he needed to decide what he wanted; well, he knew exactly what that was, but right now, it didn’t seem like a solid option. She asked for time. He could give that to her. Though he still wanted her to know he was thinking about her and that he truly was sorry. He started pondering ways to accomplish that when Theo appeared in his doorway.

“There you are,” the lanky brunette invited himself in and took his preferred seat across from Draco. “Stopped by Granger’s office to see if you wanted to grab lunch today, but she said you were working down here instead.” He arched a brow in question, noting his friend’s disheveled appearance and unhappy visage.

“Yes,” Draco sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat, busying himself with digging out the papers he’d brought with him, “We decided we could get more done if we worked in our respective areas for the time being.” He feigned nonchalance, but his childhood friend wasn’t buying it.

“Oh, really? Can’t keep her hands off you long enough to get,” but Draco quickly cut him off.

“No, nothing like that. In fact, quite the opposite.”

Theo frowned and cocked his head in question and Draco knew he’d have to explain.

“I made a complete arse out of myself and she said she needed some space,” he scowled at his desk as if it had somehow offended him, refusing to meet Theo’s stare that was currently boring into him.

After an uncharacteristically long period of silence (for Theo anyway), he simply said, “So, what are going to do about it?”

Draco’s head whipped up, “What do mean?”

“Well, surely you don’t plan to just walk away? You’ve just barely begun what could potentially be the best relationship you’ve ever had – the best shot at happiness you’ve ever imagined – you’re not going to just _give her space_ , are you?”

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to go against her wishes, but I don’t want her to think I’m not serious about her. If I remind her of my presence too much, it’ll annoy her. If I completely leave her alone, I’m afraid she’ll realize she’s better off without me.” He sighed, feeling completely exhausted and it wasn’t even noon.

“Exactly,” Theo clapped his hands together and grinned, causing a coil of trepidation to rise up in Draco’s chest. He knew that grin far too well and it was never without consequences. Before he could question his fellow Slytherin however, he’d been taken forcibly by the elbow, hoisted to his feet, and steered out his office door. Thankfully there were few people about to witness the two wizards marching purposefully to the lifts, one with a determined set to his jaw, the other with wariness etched across his features. As the gold grate began to close, Theo announced their destination.

“I think some window shopping is in order.”

ooOoo

Though Draco was loathe to admit it, Theo’s unexpected appearance in his office was the best thing that could have happened to him. They spent their lunch hour browsing the familiar shops nearby and discussing the pale blonde’s predicament. Upon returning to work, he felt he had a solid plan in place, and the staunch support of his friend. He did as Hermione had asked, and left her alone for the rest of the day, though Wednesday was a different story.

He arrived at the Ministry almost an entire hour earlier than usual, wanting to make sure he’d get there before her, just so he could place a caramel latte on her desk, along with a raspberry pastry, both of which he happened to know were favorites from the little, Muggle café around the corner. He put a stasis charm on the drink so it would stay warm, and returned to his own domain. Theo showed up about thirty minutes later and kept him company for a while, asking him questions about the Kelpie herd and discussing various details surrounding the case. Draco actually got quite a bit of work done during that time, which was exactly what Theo had been hoping would occur.

Around ten-thirty, anxious grey eyes started flickering to the clock far more often than necessary and Theo extended his assistance once more.

“Want me to go make sure she’s in and that she found your offerings?”

Draco hemmed and hawed and tried not to let his nerves get the better of him, but it was a lost cause and he miserably nodded and waved his friend out the door, feeling like his stomach was tied in knots.

Theo hummed to himself as he entered the lifts, grinned rakishly at several witches and winked at a portly, balding wizard who was glaring at him with obvious disapproval. He knew Draco was in deep where Hermione was concerned, though the Brightest Witch of the Age really had no clue. He also knew that his childhood friend had extreme difficulty expressing his thoughts and feelings in a way others could easily understand. While most perceived him to be reserved and aloof, the Malfoy heir was really just very guarded and afraid of being hurt. It was understandable, given the upbringing most Purebloods their age had endured, but it was also high time for him to get over himself and go after what he wanted, and Theo had every intention of helping him along.

As he strolled down the corridor on Level Four, a tiny voice in the back of his head warned that he really shouldn’t meddle too much, but he told it to sod off. What was the point of being distractingly handsome and charmingly witty if he couldn’t insert himself into other people’s business? He slowed his steps as he came upon Hermione’s office, but still maintained a steady pace as he passed by. Out of his periphery, he could see her behind her desk and huffed a sigh of relief that she was at the very least present and accounted for. First item checked off the list.

Wandering all the way down to the end of the hall, he took a right and headed for the loo as if that had been his destination all along. After checking his carelessly perfect hair and trying out several versions of his winningest smile, he exited and made his way back the same way he’d come. On his second pass of her door, he could clearly see the takeaway cup on her desk, but the pastry seemed to be gone. Second item checked. He took three more steps beyond her threshold when he paused and snapped his fingers as if he’d just remembered something, smiling genially to a middle-aged witch who was bustling past him with her arms full of parchment scrolls, and spun on his heel.

He strode back to his quarry’s office and leaned against the doorframe as if he was lounging in a park.

“Morning, Granger,” he drawled cheerfully.

“Hello, Nott,” she glanced up from the parchment she was scribbling on, “I was wondering how many times you were going to walk by before stopping in.”

He goggled at her, not used to being caught out like that and she giggled at his dismayed surprise. Waving her hand, she gestured for him to come in and take a seat, which he did at once.

“So, really, why are you lurking outside my door?” she tilted her head and smirked at him. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the lovely breakfast treat on my desk, or a particular tall, blonde wizard, would it?”

Theo gave a low chuckle and nodded, settling back in his seat and considering the witch before him for a moment before he spoke, “Yes to both. Does that bother you?”

“No, not at all,” her smile was soft as her mind had clearly drifted to the man in question, “It was very sweet.”

“Not usually a word people associate with Draco Malfoy, I assure you,” Theo quipped.

Hermione laughed lightly, “Perhaps not, but I’ve found him to be so on more than one occasion already, and we’ve only been together for a little over a week.”

“So you’re still together?” Theo honed in on the real reason he’d sought her out.

She sighed and dropped her gaze to the coffee cup as she spoke, “I don’t even know what we are, we haven’t talked about it really. I think I was so caught up in everything, just living in the moment I suppose, and when we had that… miscommunication… yesterday, I realized how fast things had been moving and I needed to take a step back.” She paused and met his gaze, looking for censure or indignation on behalf of his friend, but found neither. Instead, Theo nodded in understanding and leaned forward, searching her face intently.

“I’m going to tell you a few things about Draco that you probably don’t know, and I’m solely doing it because he’s like a brother to me and I think he deserves a chance at real happiness,” he paused and noted the cautiously curious look on Hermione’s face as she nodded once, encouraging him to continue.

“I said _I_ think he deserves that chance, but _he_ doesn’t think he does at all. We’ve talked about letting go of the past and the guilt we carry, but I know he’s still weighed down by it. Every time he messes up, it’s like he has to start all over again. And when it comes to you?” Theo let out a low whistle, “Let’s just say he’s been dreaming of something like this for years and now that it’s within his grasp, he is terrified of mucking it up. Feels like he already has. The way he reacted to the events of the last few days has absolutely nothing to do with you or the regard he holds for you, and everything to do with his own insecurities.”

Hermione’s eyes were brimming with tears as Theo finished his quiet but heartfelt speech. She struggled to get her emotions under control before sharing a few honest thoughts of her own.

“I’m guessing you know that Ron and I split long before it was public knowledge?” Theo nodded and she continued, “I told Draco yesterday that I spent quite a bit of time over those months observing him, getting to know him, figuring out what drew me to him. Because the honest-to-Merlin truth is that I felt something for him long before Ron and I even talked about ending it. It’s one of the reasons I knew I wasn’t really meant to be a Weasley.” She smiled sadly as Theo’s eyes widened in surprise. “I never felt a… a pull… that’s the only way I can describe it… to Ron the way I do with Draco. It’s like I gravitate towards him whenever he’s around. I know he has no idea, but I actually stopped going to the Leaky on Fridays for a few months because I couldn’t stand being there, often right near him, and not being able to act on any of it since as far as everyone else was concerned, I was engaged.” She let out a shaky breath and wiped a lone tear off her cheek. Theo wasn’t sure if he should say anything, but before he could come up with something appropriate she went on, “I think that’s one of the reasons yesterday caught me off guard. I had been thinking about him, about us, for such a long time and when it finally happened, I just kind of jumped in the deep end without considering how new it all really was.”

“It’s not new, Granger,” Theo insisted and she looked at him bemusedly, “Remember what I just said about him dreaming about this? I wasn’t talking in general terms, I was talking about you. He’s been gone over you for years, five years to be exact, though I suspect his fascination really started back when we were still at school, but that’s a whole other cauldron of trouble.” He chuckled wryly and fixed her with a stern look, “He resigned himself to a life of watching from the stands when it came to you, and now that he’s on the pitch he’s over-thinking and self-doubting and all the other rubbish things we tend to do when we’re afraid something is too good to be true. So, all that to say, for as long as you’ve been feeling this pull towards him, he’s been there even longer.”

Another tear slipped down Hermione’s cheek and Theo could tell she was overwhelmed with it all. He didn’t want to wear out his welcome, or push his luck on behalf of his friend, so he slapped his palms lightly on his thighs and flashed his trademark grin at her, “That’s it then, I’ve solved the problems of the world, yeah?” His joke was met with a watery giggle and a tremulous but genuine smile. He stood and took several strides towards the door before stopping and turning back to the curly-haired witch, “He’ll give you all the time and space you need, but I know he’d greatly appreciate it if you didn’t take too long.” He winked and walked out of her office without a backwards glance.

ooOoo

Late Wednesday afternoon Draco was plowing through the scrolls of detailed records when a soft knock sounded on his door. Without looking up he told the visitor to come in and only once he detected they’d sat in a chair across from him did he shift his attention to them. Much to his complete shock it was Hermione taking up that particular space. He gaped like a fish for a heartbeat or two before gathering his wits about him and smiling, truly pleased to see her.

“Hello,” his voice was quiet but warm, cautiously optimistic about her sudden appearance.

“Hi,” she breathed, a smile blooming across her pretty face, her eyes sparkling with something he couldn’t quite name.

“What brings you to my corner of the world this afternoon?”

She looked mildly hesitant and he felt his stomach lurch, but the smile returned and he let that bolster his confidence. Surely she wouldn’t be smiling if she was ending things with him. Her gaze dropped to her lap where she fiddled with her skirt as she spoke.

“I… I just wanted to see you, and tell you I’ve… I’ve had enough space,” she looked shyly up at him through her lashes as her cheeks turned a rosy hue. His pulse started pounding and he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to hear her properly over the roaring in his ears as she kept on, “I’d really like for us to give this a go, if that’s something you’re still interested in.” She was staring fixedly at her fingers as they twisted the material as if strangling it. He’d never seen her so unsure of herself and wanted to put her at ease at once.

“Of course I’m still interested,” the words rushed out in a relieved breath and he stretched his arms across the desk, offering his hands to her. She placed her own smaller ones in them and met his gaze fully. He traced random patterns on her knuckles as he searched for the right words to express himself, “I’m truly sorry, Hermione. I was a bloody tosser. I promise I’ll do better from now on. I won’t jump to the worst, most unreasonable conclusion next time.” She giggled and he couldn’t stop the lopsided grin that grew across his face. “Can I make it up to you over dinner tonight?”

She seemed to go very still and he worried he’d said the wrong thing, but she explained, “I would love that, I honestly would, but I have to go home and pack.”

“Pack? For what?” Mild panic now started building in his gut.

“Rolf owled me about an hour ago, saying he was able to set up a meeting with both local branches of authority for tomorrow, instead of next week like we originally talked about. They want to visit the coast, as well as the island, and are expecting to be there for two days. I have an eight o’clock portkey in the morning back to Ballycastle,” her amber eyes were wide and earnest, pleading with him to understand this wasn’t her choice.

His thoughts went into overdrive, “Well, you still have to eat, don’t you?” She nodded and he pressed on, “What if I grab takeaway and bring it over. I’ll keep you company while you pack.” An unwelcome thought occurred to him, “Unless you’d rather not. If I’ll just be in your way then,” but she cut him off with a squeeze to his hands.

“That sounds wonderful.”

Feeling rather pleased with himself, he pulled one of his hands free and rifled through some of the papers on his desk, extracting one piece in particular and handing it to her with a smirk. She took it and skimmed its contents, her eyes widening as they drifted down the page.

“You finished the proposal?”

“Finished it yesterday, actually,” he admitted with a shrug, although now the smirk was accompanied by a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Hermione let out a genuine laugh and squeezed the hand she was still holding again, “This is brilliant, Draco, thank you.”

The back of his neck heated at the sound of his given name and he resisted the urge to launch across the desk and kiss her senseless, instead, settling for a teasing retort.

“So, you’re impressed then?”

The fire he loved was dancing in her eyes again as she regarded him, “Most definitely.”

ooOoo

That evening he managed to impress her even further with an armload of food from her favorite Muggle restaurant; a little Italian place not too far from the Ministry where they had ordered from several times while working on other projects together. He remembered not only which entrée she preferred, but also the salad dressing she always got – on the side – and the cheesecake with dark chocolate ganache she practically swooned over. He only unpacked half the contents of the bag before she was on him, kissing her way up the side of his neck and carding her fingers through his hair in a way that drove him absolutely mental. He tried to insist they set all the food out, but she had other ideas.

Several hours later, after multiple helpings of food and numerous snogging sessions, they’d talked out all the issues that had come up since the blasted article had appeared in the _Prophet_. He promised not to give credence to what anyone else had to say from then on, and she suggested they offer up as many photo opportunities for the constantly-lurking reporters as they could manage. He thought that was a brilliant plan. Hermione wasn’t sure when exactly she’d be back from her time on the Irish coast, but hoped to be able to join him and their regular Friday night crowd at the Leaky, and he promised he'd be waiting for her.

The rest of the work week passed rather quickly and uneventfully, much to Draco’s relief. He went back to working in Hermione’s office, even though she was gone, partly because all of their files and documents were there, and partly because it made him feel like she was still nearby, as barmy as that might sound. He liked knowing he was in her space, and often found his eyes resting on various personal touches she’d added to her workspace. There were almost a dozen photographs, both Muggle and magical, books that had nothing to do with her job but were clearly favorites, and a random assortment of items she’d once explained were gifts from various beings she’d assisted over the years. He couldn’t help but smile as his gaze landed on what looked like a seaweed-covered rock, roughly the size of a grapefruit, sitting in a glass bowl of a clear liquid that might have been water if not for the opalescent sheen rippling through it. Apparently it was given to his favorite witch after she helped a small but ancient clan of Merfolk regain their rights to a lagoon off the coast of St. Martin’s, and she’d been told the charmed contents would bring her good fortune as long as the current continued to move. So it sat, in pride of place, on its very own shelf in her massive bookcase, flanked only by a pot of ever-blooming peonies and a jar of bluebell flames.

He’d assured her he would get everything done that had been on their list at the start of the week, and he intended to make good on that promise. He stayed several hours past closing on Thursday, wanting to complete the chart he’d been working on which would mean he’d only have two summaries, one statistics graph, and one map to label before he’d be finished with it all. Quite pleased with himself, he packed up for the day and headed home where he was met by the sight of his mother sitting in the parlor with Theo, chatting amicably over cups of tea.

“Hello, dear,” Narcissa trilled, “You’re quite late this evening.”

“Good evening, Mother,” he strode to her side and kissed her cheek, “Theo.” He nodded to his best friend and explained, “Just had something I wanted to finish. What brings you here?” He turned his full attention to the dark-haired wizard who was seemingly lounging without a care in the world, but Draco could see the vein in his temple and his foot was jiggling rapidly as it rested on his other knee, both signs of agitation or nerves.

“I was planning to go over a few things and take dinner in my study, if that’s alright with you?” He addressed his question to Narcissa, but arched a brow at Theo who nodded jerkily. Narcissa waved an airy hand, dismissing the boys and chuckling to herself before returning the book she’d been reading earlier.

Once in the study, Draco plunked himself down into his leather desk chair and studied his guest, who was pacing rapidly back and forth in front of the bookshelves. He gave Theo a few minutes to organize his thoughts while he called for an elf and requested food and drinks for both of them. Once it appeared, he interrupted the lanky brunette’s manic striding and encouraged him to sit down and join him. Theo did, but his furrowed brows and clenched jaw showed he was still very much in his own head.

“Going to tell me what this is about?” Draco asked finally.

“I… Yes… Just…” Theo stuttered, heaved a dramatic sigh and flung his head back to stare at the ceiling as if help might come floating down. Speaking towards the ivory plastered surface, he groaned, “I told Luna I love her.”

Draco almost choked on his mouthful of food, “What?”

Still not looking at him, Theo closed his eyes and let out a despairing sound, “I’m a complete idiot.”

Again, Draco asked, “What?” too shocked and confused to offer anything else at the moment.

Theo leveled his gaze at his long-time friend and the look on his face was one of hopeless dejection, “We went out this afternoon, to that new café two blocks from the Leaky, had a wonderful time. It’s a nice day, so I suggested a walk afterwards and we went through the park and down by the river. We talked a lot, about everything and nothing, and she held my hand.” He paused and scrubbed his hands roughly down his face and groaned again, “I sound like a bleeding sap.” He shook his head and sat up straighter in his seat, glaring at Draco as if angry with himself over what had taken place, “We sat on a bench under this massive tree for over an hour, just watching the water and enjoying each other’s company. I’ve never felt so comfortable with another person in my life; it’s like I’ve always known her. She made some random comment about blooming Dirigibles that made me laugh and then I told her I love her.”

Theo slumped down in the chair once more, a portrait of humiliation, leaving Draco to sort through all he’d just said. After a moment, he offered his input.

“I get it.”

Theo’s eyes flashed to him, a brow arched in question.

“Just last Friday, I had a similar… thing… happen with Hermione. We were at the bar and she said she felt like she’d known me forever. My inarticulate response was that I _wanted_ to know her forever,” he snorted wryly. “Thankfully we were both so ready to get out of the crowded pub, I don’t think she put much stock in my word vomit. Then, of course, the weekend happened and all the rest,” he gestured with annoyance indicating the debacle of the beginning of the week. “But I understand that feeling. I’m starting to think that’s how we know we’ve found someone meant for us, if that makes any sense.”

Theo studied him intently for a few long seconds, “I didn’t tell you my whole conversation with her on Wednesday.”

Pale brows shot up in surprise, then dipped in irritation, “What do you mean? You told me she got the coffee and pastry, that she thought it was sweet, and that I shouldn’t worry about things.”

Refusing to look even remotely apologetic for his omittance, Theo deigned to expound, “Yes, all that is true, but we talked a little longer than that.” While he hadn’t refrained from sharing all the details for any malicious reason, he knew that Draco hadn’t been in the right frame of mind to hear anything more than what would quell his fears in that moment. He’d rarely seen the typically-stoic wizard so unnerved, and dumping Hermione’s confession on him just then would only have made him feel worse about the mix-up he was trying to right.

He pinned his friend with a determined stare, “Before you go getting all huffy with me, you wouldn’t have had room in your brain for this at that point, so reign it in.” Draco scowled for a second or two but resigned himself to the fact that Theo was probably right and nodded for him to go on. “Bottom line? She’s been pining after you for months. Actually, more than a year, according to her.” He let that bombshell diffuse and watched with no small amount of amusement as confusion, then disbelief, then understanding, and finally pure elation flashed across the tall blonde’s face.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Draco launched himself out of his seat and took up pacing where Theo had been wearing a path in the carpet mere minutes before, running his hand repeatedly across the back of his neck in nervous excitement. Suddenly he stopped and spun around, facing his guest with narrowed, piercing eyes.

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

Theo chuckled and gestured for Draco to sit back down, which he did with lightning speed, leaning forward in his chair expectantly. The conversation was relayed in minute detail, and regularly paused so Draco could ask inane questions about Hermione’s facial expression, tone of voice, and hand gestures. By the time it was over, Theo was quite sure it had taken him three times as long to share the story than it had to actually be part of the events in question, but he didn’t mind. The unadulterated hope on his friend’s face made it worth it, and it also shed some light on his own circumstances regarding a particular blonde-haired, blue-eyed witch.

In the silence that reigned after the retelling, Draco sank back in his seat exhausted but thrilled, and positively itching to see Hermione as soon as possible. If everything Theo had said was true, and he had no reason to believe otherwise, she felt the same connection he did, which was more than he could have ever dreamed possible. It’s one thing to find someone attractive, to enjoy spending time with them, even to have a physical connection with them; but to feel innately _drawn_ to a person is wholly unique and speaks volumes to the possibilities in store. Her talking about the pull she felt to him – he knew exactly what she meant.

Glancing back at Theo, who had shifted his attention to his dinner plate by then, he felt the need to help his friend who had come to him in the first place, only to focus on Draco’s problems instead.

“What did Luna say?”

Brown eyes flashed to grey and the lithe wizard gave a slight shrug, “She just sort of giggled and kissed me and told me I was lovely. Honestly, that’s a typical response from her, so I’m not at all sure what it means.”

Draco chuckled, “Well, she didn’t run screaming for the hills, so that’s a good sign. When are you supposed to see her again?”

Theo pondered that for a moment, “I guess tomorrow night at the Leaky. We rarely plan to meet up and just sort of seem to… meet up.” He shrugged and grinned, obviously not complaining about the random yet frequent sightings of the fairy-like witch he’d recently been privy to. “What about you?” he nodded to his host, “When will you see yours?”

Draco was helpless to resist the heat coiling through him at the moniker Theo used. He wanted Hermione to be his more than he could remember ever wanting anything in his life and hoped with increasing ardor that the winds of change were blowing in his favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a little too much fun coming up with these cocktails ;) I think the world needs a Wizarding/Muggle bar now. Just a slight bit of drama - oh the emotional rollercoaster new love often is. Only one more chapter to go - Thanks so much for reading!


	3. The End

“What is _that_?” Theo eyed the bright pink concoction placed in front of him with fascinated disgust.

“Why is there a tiny umbrella?” Draco asked, inspecting the one Neville handed him.

“Is that sugar around the edge?” Blaise swiped his finger over the granules and cautiously licked his finger, “It is!”

“These,” Neville nodded to the proffered beverages, “Are Hannah’s latest creation. They’re based off a Muggle drink called a daiquiri, which are frozen, fruity things, served with a tropical flair.” He said it all with a perfectly straight face, but one look at the other three wizards sent all of them into peals of raucous laughter. The former Gryffindor shushed them all before his sweet wife caught them poking fun at her craft, “Shut it, you lot! I promised her I’d have you try them and give an honest review.” They dutifully calmed down and waited for him to continue with rapt attention as Neville glanced over his shoulder, making sure Hannah was otherwise occupied.

“What’s in it?” Blaise prompted.

“Right, so it’s a mixture of mostly rum, strawberries, and ice, but she’s thrown in a splash of gigglewater, and fizzing whizzbee syrup to give it a bit of a pop,” he finished with a grin.

“Are these spicy?” Theo asked about the whole strawberries speared on each of their decorative umbrellas.

“No, those are just regular berries,” Neville assured him.

“Well, doesn’t sound bad,” Draco shrugged, thinking anything with sugar and fruit and candy syrup in it would probably be rather harmless in terms of cocktails.

“Alright then,” Neville picked up his glass and the rest followed suit, “ _Death to the Toad_ , lads.”

They each took a tentative sip and were pleasantly surprised by how good it tasted. For the next several seconds, they focused on their drinks until Theo piped up.

“Why did you said ‘ _Death to the Toad_ ’?”

“That’s the name of it,” Neville indicated the beverage.

“Because…” Blaise let the question hang out there.

“Oh, well, it’s a horrid shade of pink, like Umbridge used to wear, and everyone thought she looked like a toad, so…” he trailed off as both Draco and Theo choked on their mouthfuls of the frozen mixture, Theo actually spitting some of his across the table, and Blaise erupted in a fit of hilarity. Much laughing, coughing, eye-wiping, and back-thumping took place over the next few moments as they all collected themselves and congratulated Neville on his wife’s brilliance. After multiple sips, they started to realize there was more alcohol in the drink than originally thought and the fizzing sensation from the candy syrup only enhanced the buzzed feeling brought on by the rum. On top of all that, there was enough gigglewater in each glass to bring about random hiccups and chortles that sent them all ‘round the bend once more.

It was this unhinged sight that met Hermione when she walked up to the table, only slightly later than she normally arrived on a Friday.

“Started the party without me?” she teased the quartet of wizards at large, but her gaze settled on the only blonde in their midst.

“You’re back!” Draco exclaimed, mentally kicking himself for becoming a single-syllabled moron every time she was with him in front of his friends.

Her giggle warmed his insides and he immediately started wondering how long they would stay at the crowded pub that evening, knowing he’d much prefer the quiet confines of her flat, and more specifically, her over-stuffed sofa.

“Yes, finished up in time to get home, drop my stuff, and change before heading here. Care to buy me a drink?” she tilted her head towards the bar in invitation and he immediately moved to take her up on it, ignoring the smug grins of the other blokes at the table.

“Don’t forget your drink, mate,” Theo called out, holding a half-empty glass of flamingo-colored cocktail up, smirking widely at him.

“Yes, thank you so much,” Draco snatched it from him quick enough to topple the umbrella that had been perched on the rim sans strawberry, and earning a snigger from all three other wizards.

Hermione looked curiously at the fruity concoction, “Hannah’s latest?”

He nodded and placed the curved glass down on the bar as they settled into what was fast becoming “their” stools at the end of the gleaming counter. The pub's hospitable host was on them in a flash and happily agreed to make another daiquiri for the curly-haired witch.

Hermione laughed for half a minute straight when Draco told her the name of the drink, to the point where tears had gathered in her eyes and hiccups were making it hard for her to catch her breath.

“Ooooh, that’s brilliant,” she finally managed to wheeze.

“Thought you’d appreciate it,” he grinned, finding once again that everything simply felt _right_ when he was with her. “I’m thinking we should come up with something ridiculous to name after Fudge.”

“Yes! Something with just a tiny dose of Babbling Beverage in it, since he was constantly spouting nonsense,” she suggested with a wicked grin that sparked a coil of heat in his gut.

_Merlin, she was ruthless and he loved her for it._

That though drew him up short. For the next several minutes, he managed to participate minimally in a conversation with Hermione and Hannah, though his internal train had quickly gone off the rails. He’d fancied her for years, that much was true, and felt more than a small connection to her, but _love her_? He knew he wanted things to be serious between them; the thought of seeing other witches didn’t appeal to him in the slightest, and the idea of her with any other wizard made his blood turn to ice, but was that love?

He watched her surreptitiously as she engaged with their former schoolmate, ticking items off his mental list as he pretended to follow their dialogue. She was beautiful and charming, more intelligent than anyone he’d ever met, witty and sarcastic (which he adored), compassionate, friendly, honest (sometimes brutally so), and filled with a fire he would willingly allow to burn him. She matched him on an intellectual level, and fit him perfectly on a physical one (at least so far as they’d ventured into that realm, though he was positive once they eventually made it to the bedroom there’d be no question about her being made for him).

Could he see himself marrying her? Absolutely. Could he see _her_ marrying _him_? Now that was the million galleon question, wasn’t it? It wasn’t as if he was going to drop down on one knee right this minute and ask, but now that the idea was churning in his over-active brain, it would be hard to divest himself of.

He forced himself to focus on his present surroundings once more and caught the tail-end of Hannah’s comment.

“He was always one for Red Currant Rum, which would go nicely with a splash of cranberry juice, some soda water, and a stopper of the potion,” Hannah mused aloud.

“Could you garnish it with a lime wedge, or a green grape? Something to represent his ridiculous bowler hat?” Hermione joked.

“Definitely!” Hannah laughed, “But what should we call it?”

“ _Fudge’s Folly_?”

“ _Oblivion_?”

“How about ‘ _Intentional Ignorance_ ,’” Draco offered with a glint in his eye.

“I like that,” Hannah nodded determinedly, “I’ll work on that one this weekend.” She flashed them both a smile and headed off to greet other patrons.

“Where’d you go?” wide brown eyes were studying him earnestly.

“What do you mean? I’ve been right here,” he asked, bemused.

Hermione shook her head, a small smile on her face, “In body, yes, but your mind was clearly elsewhere. You might’ve fooled Hannah, but I know you better than that.”

Something clicked inside Draco at her words. She was absolutely right; she did know him better, and likewise he knew her. They might have only just started this official relationship, but hadn’t both of them admitted to purposefully putting themselves in the others path over the years? Observing one another as to gain a better understanding of what was below the surface? His mind quickly tallied a list of the numerous non-work-related conversations they’d had since he’d partnered with her on their very first assignment, and he realized he probably knew just as much about her at this point as he did about Theo or Blaise, if not more.

He blinked owlishly at her for a heartbeat or two before deciding that this was not the time or place to declare his profound feelings, and instead shook his head as if clearing the fog, flashed her a lopsided grin, and nodded towards the frozen mixture Hannah had served up.

“Going to give that a try?”

She let him deflect her question and turned her attention to her drink. After taking a trial sip through a thick purple straw Hannah had plunked in there, she beamed at him, “This is really good. At least, it’s right up my alley. You?”

He shrugged and took another swig of his half-finished one, “It’s a little fruitier and sweeter than I’d normally choose, but it tastes good. I think there’s a deceptive amount of rum in it, though. The fizz and berries cover up how much is really in there, so you might want to take... it... slow.” He tagged that admonishment on at the end as he watched her take several long pulls, trying not to focus on the way her lips looked pursed around the plastic tube. In response, she arched a brow at him and sucked till her cheeks hollowed out, releasing the straw with an audible _pop_ and smirking at him.

“Have you eaten yet?” she inquired.

“Nope. Want something?”

She eyed him up and down for a slow and suggestive moment, causing heat to spark in his core that paired nicely with the buzz going on in his head, before leaning in very close and whispering against his cheek.

“I most definitely want something, but this happens to be a public place, so I’ll settle for an order of chips,” her warm breath sent shivers down his spine and he wished with every fiber of his being that he could vanish everyone in the pub, lay her out on the bar top, and,

“Want to share?” her question, worded slightly louder as she pulled back and gazed at him with wide, innocent eyes sparkling with a glint that showed she knew exactly what she was doing to him. It was all he could do to nod in dumb agreement as he tried to redirect his mental course onto something more suitable… at least for the moment.

Hannah returned to them at the sight of Hermione’s raised hand and asked them if they’d want to be testers once again, this time for a new menu item instead of a cocktail. Of course, they agreed, and several minutes later a large plastic basket filled with chips was slid in front of them. Unlike standard pub fare which were typically just salted and served with a bottle of vinegar, these fries were covered with a mountain of cheese, bacon, and green onions, and served with sides of ketchup and sour cream.

Hermione’s eyes lit up immediately and Draco’s went round as saucers. He prided himself on his growing knowledge of Muggle foods, styles, and inventions, but this was something he’d never seen before.

“They’re called _loaded_ , due to all the stuff on top. It’s actually an American thing,” Hannah explained before requesting they let her know what they thought, and returning to the other end of the bar.

“I’ve had these once before,” the petite brunette eyed the pile with obvious delight, “My folks and I went to New York when I was ten. They won some sort of lotto for their office and it included airfare, hotel, and tickets to a show. We were there for three days and ate every stereotypical American food we could find; pizza, burgers, cheesecake, hotdogs, apple pie, milkshakes, and loaded fries. It was amazing.” She sighed at the happy recollection before using her fingers to pull a cheese-and-bacon-laden chip from the basket and holding it out to him, clearly expecting him to bite it.

The Pureblood decorum instilled in him from the time he could hold a spoon balked at the idea, but he wasn’t about to turn down the mildly-intimate gesture, so he bit. He expected it to taste alright, since he was familiar with each of the items on their own, but the combination was far more enjoyable than he’d been prepared for. He couldn’t stop the widening of his eyes as he chewed, earning another delightful giggle from the witch by his side.

The next half hour passed with them sharing the snack, trying different combinations of the toppings presented, even asking Hannah for salt, pepper, vinegar, and a bottle of hot sauce. While they did use their own fingers (and forks for the messiest chips), Draco lost count of the number of times he sank his teeth into one Hermione was holding, and it took him a solid fifteen minutes to work up the courage to hold one out to her. Gold-flecked eyes never left slate-grey as she leaned forward and took a delicate bite of the fry between his fingers. He felt like it might have been a religious experience, the way his heart was pounding and his head went all fuzzy, and then immediately snorted internally at the ridiculous way he was reacting to her.

After telling Hannah that she most definitely should keep this new addition on the menu, they hopped off their stools and made their way to the door. Once outside, instead of going left towards the apparition point, Hermione tugged his hand to the right.

“Where we going?”

In lieu of an answer, she simply flashed him a smirk that promised mischief and kept walking towards her intended destination. As they neared the end of the outside wall of the Leaky Cauldron, she kept going, pulling him further down the block. About halfway across the next storefront, he heard the distinct clicking of a camera shutter and knew they’d stepped beyond the protective wards Hannah maintained. Hermione must have heard it as well, because she stopped and turned to face him, and impish look on her face.

“It’s our first intentional photo op,” she explained while raising up on her tiptoes, fisting the front of his shirt with both hands, and pressing her lips to his in a world-shifting kiss.

Draco wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tightly to him, figuring if they were going to be front page news again, he might as well go all in. He angled his head, deepening the kiss, and slid one hand up her spine till it tangled in her riotous curls. In response, she wound one arm around his neck and grazed her fingers through the short hairs above his collar, causing him to emit a low rumbling sound from deep in his chest. He forgot where he was, forgot there was a specific purpose to this snog session, almost forgot his own name, so caught up was he in the moment.

Hermione pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, “Now, smile for the camera,” before turning her head and grinning like the cat that just ate the canary for the reporters hiding in the bushes across the way. He was about two seconds behind, his brain fuzzy with desire, but he looked the same direction as she and cast a lazy smirk towards the lenses that were still snapping away.

After about five seconds, the Golden Girl decided she’d given the public enough of an eye-full, sank back to her heels, grabbed his hand, and hauled him back the way they’d come. He followed in happy obedience, assuming they were going to the apparition point so they could pop back to her flat. He was right in his predictions, and in mere minutes they were enthusiastically engaged in more snogging, though this time without an audience.

ooOoo

Narcissa was enjoying an afternoon cup of tea on the sunlit patio adjacent to her magnificent rose garden when Draco found her on Saturday. He’d gotten in very late (or very early?) once again and looked like he’d just barely woken up. However, she noticed he was smiling to himself which indicated things were going much better than they’d been at the start of last week. He sank into a neighboring chair with a content sigh, closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the warm rays.

“Hello, Mother,” he greeted after several seconds.

“Hello, dear,” she replied as she turned the page of the Witch Weekly magazine she was perusing. Silence fell between them again and she wasn’t in any rush to interrupt it. Whatever her son had sought her out to talk about would be revealed in due course.

True enough, about five minutes later, Draco roused himself enough to announce, “I’m going to ask Hermione to attend the gala with me.”

Hiding her gleeful pleasure about this news behind a benign smile and lilting hum, she inwardly cheered as he continued.

“I want to do it properly, though. How should I go about it?”

Narcissa thought Christmas just might have come early; not only was her stubborn, overly-cautious son finally going after the one thing she was positive he’d wanted for a long, long time, but he was actually asking for her advice on the matter. Once again, she disguised her euphoric shock with a thoughtful noise, indicating she was considering his question.

“Are you thinking along the lines of a formal invitation? Or a gift to accompany your request?”

“She wouldn’t need an invitation; she got the same one we did. I saw it tacked to her fruge last night.”

“Her _fruge_?”

He waved a hand, eyes still closed, “You know, the Muggle contraption that keeps food cold.”

“I believe you’re thinking of a _fridge_ , dear. Technically a _refrigerator_ , and it’s a kitchen appliance,” she couldn’t help teasing him further, “If you’re going to end up with a Muggleborn witch, you need to know the proper terminology.”

At this, Draco’s head shot up and he pinned his mother with a fierce stare. She, however, continued reading her magazine as if she’d merely been commenting on the weather.

“What do you mean _end up_?"

Sparkling blue eyes slid sideways to peer at him and a smirk tugged at the corner of the elegant witch’s mouth, “I should think that would be obvious, dear."

He goggled at her for several heartbeats before deciding that was a trunk to unpack later, and instead, returned to what he considered to be a more immediate issue.

“I’d like to send her something with a note, but not until after I’ve asked her in person and she’s accepted.”

“That’s a lovely gesture,” Narcissa nodded, finally setting the periodical in her lap and meeting Draco’s gaze head on. “Were you wanting to buy something new, or choose something from the vault?”

She could tell her offer for him to pick a family heirloom had been at the heart of his request in the first place, the way a satisfied glint appeared in his eyes and a grin spread across his handsome face.

“Would it be alright if I gave her one of the pendant necklaces?”

Narcissa knew exactly what he was referring to. The Malfoy vault, though much less impressive than it had been in its pre-war days, still held a vast array of jewelry. Everything from emerald cufflinks to diamond tiaras, it was a combination of pieces from both Lucius’ family and her own. The pendant necklaces had been passed down to the women in the Black family for over two centuries now, and were smaller and more delicate than most of the ostentatious pieces found in the vault, but no less valuable or eye-catching.

“Of course, dear. You can have whatever you like. I’m sure any piece you choose will look stunning on Miss Granger,” she said this with a genuine smile and hoped her son knew that she was fully supportive of his pursuit of the beautiful and brilliant young woman. She was positive the significance of gifting a witch a piece of ancestral jewelry was not lost on him, and was equally sure the Brightest Witch of the Age would be sufficiently well-aware of the meaning behind such a gesture, regardless of her upbringing.

Draco nodded, his grin widening at her response, “Thank you. I’ll swing by there Monday after work if she consents to being my date.”

“How are you planning to ask her?” Narcissa couldn’t help but be curious.

“We talked about going over to this new little sandwich shop for lunch, and I thought I’d ask her then. At least we’d be out of the office, so if she declines, I can make up some errand to run for the remainder of the afternoon to heal my wounded pride,” he chuckled as he said this, inferring he wasn’t really concerned that this would be a likely outcome. “Assuming she agrees, we’ll finish our work day and I’ll go to Gringotts afterwards.”

“Do you know what color her dress is? Does she have one yet?”

He shook his head, “She mentioned doing some dress shopping this afternoon. I believe she’s meeting up with Ginny and Luna today, since they all need gowns as well.”

The wheels started turning in the demure Pureblood’s head as she considered this bit of information, and Draco asked her a different question, although related to the same topic.

“What about you, Mother? You’re planning to attend, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am. Andromeda and I have talked about arriving together. I also need to figure out what I’m wearing, now that you mention it. Do you need anything? Or are you formal robes still acceptable?”

“They’re fine,” he waved his hand lazily and laid his head back once more, looking more relaxed than she’d seen him in longer than she could remember. She smiled as she took in the man beside her, no longer a child, but always her little boy. He’d come so far, and had been through so much, and it seemed that fate was finally being kind to him. For that, she was more thankful than she could ever say.

“Well, I’m going to go solve that problem for myself right now,” she announced cheerfully as she set the magazine aside, stood and rounded the back of Draco’s chair where she bent to place a kiss on the top of his platinum locks, before sweeping back into the house and off to tackle some important tasks.

ooOoo

The bell above the door jingled as Hermione, Ginny, and Luna entered the Wizarding shop. _Sophisticated Sisters_ was a clothing store owned and operated by Daphne and Astoria Greengrass, and while it boasted a wide variety of robes for all seasons and occasions, many of which the talented duo had designed themselves, the young entrepreneurs made the daring decision to incorporate Muggle fashions into their stock and had been well-compensated for their efforts. In the three years since opening, the business had doubled in size, taking over the space next door to its Diagon Alley location, and was considered _the_ place to go if one needed a fancy gown or trendy ensemble.

“Hello, ladies!” Daphne’s friendly voice carried across the sizeable space and a second later, the pretty blonde bustled over to her customers, her arms full of brightly-hued fabrics. The trio returned her greeting and explained why they were there.

“Of course! I’ve had several others in today for the very same thing. Lucky for you, I write all my sales down when special events are looming, so no two witches wear the same thing,” she winked at them and beckoned for them to follow her to the other side of the shop. There, they found Astoria, the younger sister by two years, rehanging several items.

“Tori can help you if you have any questions, but feel free to try anything and everything on,” with that, she scurried back to her previous task, leaving her sibling to wait on them.

“Gowns for the Hogwarts Gala, yes?” Tori asked, her brown eyes glittering with excitement as she eyed each of the women before her with an intentional gaze, looking them up and down and walking around them in a slow circle. “Do any of you have any colors or styles already in mind? Anything you prefer? Or anything you absolutely hate?”

Hermione shrugged, not having much of a preference and usually picking whatever she felt best in. Luna made a comment about how blues and purples would be best for her aura at the moment, and Ginny stated she’d been told redheads couldn’t wear pink. Astoria laughed and flipped her long, auburn ponytail over her shoulder.

“You absolutely _can_ wear pink. It just needs to be the right shade! I’ll let you all browse, but I’m right here if you have any questions or need any help. As far as gowns that were recently purchased, there were two colbalt blue, one silver, one yellow, two black, and, much to my dismay, one white.” The pretty designer rolled her eyes at that and explained, “Wearing a long, full-skirted, pure white dress just makes everyone think of a bride. Although, I wouldn’t put it past the witch who bought it to be trying to drop major wedding hints to her oblivious boyfriend!” All three patrons groaned in good-natured exasperation at the thought before turning their attention to the numerous racks of gorgeous dresses.

Roughly two hours later, having each tried on at least ten gowns (some more than once), Ginny and Luna had made their final decisions and were waiting on Hermione, who had all but settled on a lovely sage green number, but then something caught her eye and she’d disappeared into the dressing room once more. Astoria found a glittering rose-gold gown she insisted the youngest Weasley needed to try, and everyone agreed the floor-length sheath was perfect. Luna was ecstatic over a lilac creation with layers of tulle skirt topped by a satin bodice beaded with tiny pearls. They were chatting amicably when the last member of their party emerged from behind the curtain and silence reigned.

The dress was emerald green silk with matching lace detailing that covered the top third of the bodice and off-shoulder sleeves. The cut was straight and fitted, and clung to Hermione like it had been painted on her. The back dipped lower than the front, a slit up the left side stopped mid-thigh, and several inches of material pooled around her feet like a small train. The color was perfect for her skin tone, and the style could not have been more complimentary to her petite yet subtly curved frame. The other three girls simply marveled at her, which caused her to glance nervously at them in the mirror.

“It’s too much, isn’t it? I should just stick with the other one,” she made to move back to the changing area when her audience found their voices.

“No, no, you _have_ to get this one,” Ginny rushed to implore her, “It’s stunning, Hermione. _You_ are stunning.”

“I agree. This looks like it was made for you,” Luna agreed, then added, “Plus, it’s Draco’s favorite color, so I think he’ll appreciate it immensely.”

“Oh, are you going together?” Astoria asked with friendly curiosity.

“Well, he hasn’t officially asked me,” Hermione chewed her lip, again second-guessing the purchase but the other witches started flapping their hands and insisting.

“You know he’s going to ask you this week, and you need to have this ready for when he does,” Ginny spoke firmly and Luna nodded vehemently beside her.

“It looks absolutely amazing on you,” Astoria smiled encouragingly, “And I’m quite certain Draco won’t be able to take his eyes off you in it.”

With one last look at herself in the mirror, Hermione gave in and decided that yes, this was going to be the dress she bought. Happy squeals erupted as she went to change back to her normal clothes, and the others headed for the sales counter. When she joined them, they decided tea and something sweet was required next and she sent Ginny and Luna on to grab a table at a nearby café. She didn’t pay any attention to the jingle of the shop’s bell until Daphne, who was ringing her up, welcomed the newcomer.

“Mrs. Malfoy, it’s so nice to see you!”

The petite brunette looked around and saw the older witch approaching, and offered a friendly smile which was returned immediately.

“Hello, Miss Greengrass, Miss Granger,” Narcissa nodded to each of them in turn but then focused solely on the latter, “Shopping for the gala, by any chance?”

“Yes,” Hermione replied, slightly nervous but pleased to be engaging in conversation with Draco’s mother. She hadn’t seen much of the Malfoy matriarch since the Final Battle, but had heard about all the things she’d done and assistance she’d given regarding various post-war efforts. She wondered if Narcissa knew about her relationship with Draco, and if so, what she thought about it. Daphne was in the process of folding her gown and putting it in a box when Hermione gestured to it, “I decided on this one just a few minutes ago.”

Narcissa glanced at the shimmering green fabric and couldn’t stop the knowing smile that bloomed across her visage, “It’s a lovely color.” Her eyes twinkled as she met the pair of wide chocolate ones that were watching her with open curiosity and decided to give the tiniest nudge, “Many are of the opinion that silver compliments green best, but I happen to think gold is a much better pairing.” With that, she informed Daphne that she intended to peruse her formal gowns and bade the two young women farewell, though not before gracing Hermione with a genuine smile and a pat on the arm.

Gobsmacked, the Gryffindor Princess stared wide-eyed and slack-jawed after her, and then at Daphne who was equally dumbfounded. The two blinked at each other for a heartbeat or two before dissolving into quiet giggles.

“Pretty sure she just gave you her blessing,” Daphne whispered conspiratorially as she handed Hermione the box containing her dress, “I’m sure he’s going to ask you, but good luck with everything!”

Hermione thanked her profusely and set off to find her friends and tell them all about the unusual but not unwelcome interaction they’d just missed.

ooOoo

Just as he’d planned, Draco found himself across a small table in the new sandwich shop with Hermione on Monday afternoon. They’d chosen two of the specialty subs and were happily sampling each other’s lunches while continuing to discuss the information she had brought back from her time with Rolf the week before.

As they neared the end of their allotted break, he gathered his nerve and extended his hand across the table to her. She took it without the slightest hesitation, her expression open and endearing and he couldn’t explain why that made him feel like he’d swallowed a snitch, but he forged ahead regardless.

“I have a question for you,” he began, allowing a smirk to spread as he watched the light dance in her eyes.

“Alright,” she replied with a smile.

“Will you go to the Hogwarts Gala with me this weekend?” his heart was pounding so hard he thought he must be visibly quaking from the force.

Hermione positively beamed and he felt a warmth swirl inside of him that reached the very tips of his fingers and toes, and he vowed to be the reason she smiled with such genuine joy as often as he could manage it.

“I would love to,” her excitement was palpable as she squeezed his hand.

“That’s settled then,” he nodded once and flashed a roguish smirk at her, causing her cheeks to turn a pretty pink. “Shall we head back to the office and the mountain of paperwork that awaits?”

She sighed dramatically and let go of his hand so she could remove her napkin from her lap and get out of her seat. “I suppose,” she said with excessive exasperation while smoothing her skirt and sliding her wand back in her pocket. When she looked up again, he’d rounded the table and was standing so close she had to tilt her chin back to meet his gaze, “Though I can think of a few things I’d rather be doing.”

His pulse raced at the spark in her eyes and before he could move she was pressing her lips to his, right there in the middle of the small delicatessen, without a care for the other customers, staff, or anyone who might see them through the window. He knew they’d made quite a statement with their antics outside the Leaky on Friday; photos of them from that moment had been printed in _both_ the Saturday and Sunday editions of the paper, accompanied by more speculation about their relationship, and further responses from readers. He’d been happy to note, however, that more of the write-ins were supportive of them than the last batch, with most people simply joining the “ _live and let live_ ” bandwagon.

However, regardless of the marginal increase in society’s acceptance of him, her willingness to be seen this way in public with him did things to his long-battered self-esteem and virtually non-existent confidence that overwhelmed him. The fact that she was so comfortable with him, that she wanted their relationship to be visible, that she truly wanted _him_ , was still something he had difficulty comprehending. Before his brain could catch up with his body, though, she was stepping back and lacing her fingers through his, tugging him out the door and back to their office.

ooOoo

The next several days passed in a flurry of activity for the unlikely pair. The decisions made during Hermione's recent trip gave them a bit of a deadline, and with the gala coming up that weekend, they didn’t want anything work related hanging over them. Tuesday and Wednesday were spent elbow-deep in legislation, making sure the new documents they were creating adhered to every standard and included all the correct language and important phrases. Long hours hunched over their shared workspace found them both with cricks in their necks, ink staining their fingers, and a growing dislike for the tedium most legal advancements were built upon.

On Wednesday night, their third night in a row of takeaway for dinner, accompanied by multiple cups of strong coffee, they finally started to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Okay, I think this is finally finished,” Hermione dropped her quill and indicated the four-foot scroll of parchment before her. “I want to have Warlock O’Dair look it over before we make copies and send it off to the Irish Ministry, and I planned to send one to Rolf, too, just so he would know exactly what had been agreed upon. I’m sure he’ll be monitoring the herd for quite some time, so he needs to be in the loop.”

Draco agreed wholeheartedly and set aside his own quill, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders as he stood for the first time in at least three hours. He moved to stand beside her and look over the completed work only to be sidetracked by a pair of arms wrapping around his waist and a head of soft curls nestling under his chin. He chuckled to himself as he gathered her in an embrace and simply revelled in the feeling of her against him. This was something else he wasn’t entirely used to yet – her regular displays of physical affection. The Pureblood version of such consisted of offering an elbow, kissing a hand, or resting an arm around a waist, but he found he truly liked the easy way she molded herself to him and often craved her nearness when she wasn’t right next to him.

A thought occurred to him as he stood there with her and he decided to act on impulse. “I have something for you,” he announced. She shifted so her chin was resting on his sternum, her chocolate brown eyes dancing with delight.

“You do?”

“Mmhmm,” he nodded, still holding her close, “I was going to wait and send it to you tomorrow, or even possibly Friday, but I’ve decided I’d rather give it to you in person.” He picked up his wand from the table and twirled it towards the doorway. He knew it would take a few seconds for the summoned object to arrive, so he busied himself by kissing the beautiful witch in his arms. She melted into him as their lips met and he felt like his feet might just have floated off the floor when she sighed as he nibbled and kissed his way down her jaw to the spot below her ear he knew was a favorite. The delicious trail of fire she was leaving as her fingers grazed up his arms, across his shoulders and into his hair sent shivers down his spine and he was blissfully oblivious to his surroundings until something poked him in the back.

Jerking away abruptly, he turned with an annoyed glare towards the offender, only to find a narrow, black velvet box hovering in mid-air. Huffing with sheepish irritation at himself for getting so sidetracked, he grabbed ahold of the case and brought it between them, offering it to Hermione with a lopsided and slightly nervous smile.

“I would be honored if you would wear this to the gala,” he placed the box in her hands as her eyes widened in surprise. She flashed him a look he couldn’t quite name before carefully opening the lid and gasping at the contents within. A delicate gold chain lay amidst a bed of white satin, and hanging from it was an exquisite emerald, set in a gold filigree with tiny diamonds embedded throughout. The pendant was roughly an inch and a half in length, and slightly less in width, but no less marvelous due to its diminutive size.

“Draco,” Hermione breathed as she raised her gaze to his, “This is gorgeous.” In the back of her constantly-working mind, several things clicked into place. The first was her encounter with Narcissa over the weekend and her vague comment about “ _green and gold_.” Surely she must have told her son what color gown his date had selected for the event. The second notion that vied for attention was that this was most assuredly a piece from the Malfoy vault, meaning it was a family heirloom. In all aristocratic societies, not just magical ones, this had significant meaning, she knew. While it wasn’t quite the equivalent of an engagement ring, it was basically a precursor to one. Her breath caught in her throat as she considered the message this gift was implying, and what her acceptance of it would garner in turn.

The pale blonde was watching her intently with an affectionate expression, though his eyes were guarded, as if bracing himself for rejection. She carefully closed the box and set it aside on the table, noting the look of worry now flitting across the handsome features she’d adored for so long. Raising up on tiptoe, she cupped his face with her hands and kissed him softly.

“It would be _my_ honor to wear it,” she whispered against his lips and immediately felt the tension leave him as he brought his arms back around her. Their snogging quickly turned heated and they broke apart only when they heard the team of Cleaning Elves coming down the hall for their evening rounds. Quickly straightening up their piles of papers, and sending off a copy of the (hopefully) finished proposal to the intended member of the Wizengamot, they made their way through the building and to the floo in the atrium where they were able to travel directly to Hermione’s flat. Upon arrival, they proceeded to pick up where they'd left off.

ooOoo

A large group of Hogwarts alumni decided to make an entire weekend of the gala, which included getting there Friday evening in time for dinner. Word had spread through their social grapevine, and in no time, over one hundred invited guests had joined in on the idea and Minister Shacklebolt had even been convinced to run the Hogwarts Express for the occasion. As a result, Hermione, Draco, and many of their friends and coworkers left the Ministry at lunchtime that day in order to go home and gather their belongings before arriving at the enchanted platform.

“I haven’t done this in ages,” Narcissa murmured to her sister, Andromeda, as they approached one of the open cars. She was more than a little anxious about the whole thing, even though she’d been invited just like everyone else, since it was only the second time she’d ventured out into such a public setting.

“It’s going to be such fun,” Andromeda clasped her arm and smiled encouragingly, “It’s a celebration, Cissa, and everyone here knows how much you’ve done to help the school over the last five years.”

As if summoned by her bolstering speech, the sisters were approached by a husband and wife of similar age who explained their daughter, Penelope, worked closely with the Headmistress and had been the lucky recipient of one of the rooms furnished by donations from the Manor. The young woman also, according to her parents, was thrilled with the additions made to the school’s library, and often spoke of the time she spent enjoying the books Narcissa had supplied.

“See? What did I tell you?” Andromeda teased as they settled into a compartment and the pale witch had to agree with her dark-haired sibling. Perhaps this would go smoothly after all.

As the whistle blew and the train began chugging its way slowly out of the station, their door slid open to reveal two visitors.

“Draco!” Narcissa exclaimed happily, not having expected to see her son until they’d reached the castle, though her gaze was captured by the witch beside him, holding his hand, “And Miss Granger, so nice to see you again!”

“Hello, Mother, Aunt Andromeda,” Draco nodded to both of them as Hermione smiled her own greeting, “Mind if we join you for a bit?” The young couple was bid to enter and make themselves comfortable, with Draco sitting beside Narcissa, and Hermione next to Andromeda. They chatted amicably for quite some time, the older adults asking work-related questions which the younger ones answered in turn.

If Hermione was nervous about being in such close proximity to his mother, Draco was impressed to note she didn’t show it. He knew, of course, they had interacted briefly in the Greengrass sisters’ shop, but this was an entirely different scenario. He enjoyed watching her talk about their project, her animated expressions and rapid hand gestures put her passion for her job on display. She was genuine and sincere in everything she did and said, and there was a sweetness to her that made it difficult for him to sit across from her and not gather her up in his arms. He wanted to hold onto her, to protect her, to give her the world even though he knew she’d never ask for it. He’d known his feelings for the petite witch ran deep for years, but these last few weeks had shown him just how much. He _loved_ her. He was _in love_ with her. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life professing and proving that to her, but he wasn’t completely sure if that was what _she_ wanted.

As Draco watched his favorite witch with a soft smile on his face, Narcissa made some observations of her own. Her son was clearly head over heels for the young woman seated across from her, which she had suspected for a long time, but his actions in recent weeks proved it. When she’d mentioned that Hermione had chosen a green dress for the upcoming gala, the brilliant smile that lit up his face had made her heart swell, and when he came home with _that_ particular necklace, well… Draco was well-aware of the history of that piece; that it had been given to his great-grandmother by his great-grandfather the night he professed his love for her, going against his family’s wishes and backing out of an arranged marriage. Of all the treasures in the vault, it was one of very few that had been given out of love and not obligation or expectation.

Pulling herself from her musings, she refocused her attention on the lovely Muggleborn who was teasing her son about something relating to a food item called _loaded_ _chips_ , and joined the conversation once again.

ooOoo

Upon arriving at the Hogsmeade station, the passengers scattered in a variety of directions. Most of the older witches and wizards had taken rooms in the quaint village, while the younger crowd had convinced the Headmistress to let them stay in the castle. Everyone was on their own for dinner, though most were planning to eat at the Three Broomsticks, which Madam Rosemerta had made special accommodations for. Draco and Hermione, along with Harry, Ginny, Ron, Theo, Luna, Hannah, Neville, Blaise, Katie, Pansy, and more than two dozen other classmates trudged up the path to the school, loud voices and boisterous laughter accompanying them the entire way.

The Room of Requirement had turned itself into a dormitory of sorts for the expected visitors. A large common area greeted anyone who entered, and doors lined the three inner walls of the vast space, each leading to bedrooms that could hold two, three, or even four guests. Hermione and Luna took a room together, while Draco and Theo chose a triple on the opposite side with Blaise. Hogwarts Kitchen Elves appeared with a buffet of food offerings and in no time, the couches and chairs were filled with former schoolmates catching up with one another, reacquainting themselves, and engaging in typical levels of teasing banter and mild pranks.

At one point, Hermione found herself at a table with Blaise and Theo while Draco went off in search of something to drink.

“So,” Theo drawled, cocking a brow in obvious expectation.

“So?” Hermione smirked, knowing exactly what the lanky brunette was hinting at.

“I believe you owe me some sort of thank you, or show of appreciation,” he sniffed.

“Oh, really?”

“Obviously,” he waved an airy hand, “If it weren’t for my little pep talk last week, you two might still be on the outs.”

“Obviously,” she grinned at his theatrics.

“Most might think it gauche, but I believe recognition in the form of expensive gifts or public displays of acknowledgement to be in good form.”

“Of course,” she bit back a giggle, “And what would be an acceptable public display? Should I stand on the table and proclaim your selfless acts of benevolence? Or should I write Luna a lengthy testament of your admirable qualities so she will have no choice but to fall unequivocally in love with you?”

At this, Theo’s eyes went comically wide and Blaise snorted with surprised delight.

“Oh, you’ve got it in one, Granger,” the dark-skinned wizard chortled.

“What? How? Did Draco?” Theo was spluttering and turning red in an attempt to string together a coherent sentence.

“Was it a secret?” Hermione asked innocently, “I mean to say, Luna was quite vocal about her thoughts on you when we were dress shopping, but if no one’s supposed to know, I’ll just keep those sentiments to myself.”

Theo was goggling at her and Blaise was beside himself with glee, clearly enjoying the sight of someone putting his snarky, often irreverent, constantly meddling friend in his place.

“I like you, Granger. You can stay,” Blaise offered, wagging a finger in her direction while nodding decisively, and was rewarded with a wicked grin and a wink from the petite brunette. Theo was still gaping like a fish when Draco returned with four tumblers filled with a clear purple liquid, the surface of which was covered with opalescent bubbles.

“What’d I miss?” he asked as he passed out the drinks.

“Blaise said I can stay,” Hermione informed him and saw the Italian nod firmly again at her boyfriend (she could call him that now, right?), who grinned in response.

“And what’s wrong with this one?” Draco cocked his head at Theo who was staring at Hermione with a mixture of awe and horror dawning on his face.

“I think she was sorted wrong, mate,” Theo finally managed, “She’s definitely got more than a little snake in there.” Blaise choked on his cocktail and Draco’s cheeks immediately flamed red, remembering Theo’s previous use of those words, while Hermione just looked bemusedly from one to the other. The Malfoy heir shrugged and shook his head, indicating his friend was just being his usual dramatic self, and turned their attention back to the beverages he’d handed out.

“Hannah brought along a case of her newest recipe, something she said she made especially for this weekend. It’s called the _Four Founders_ , and is designed to represent a combination of all the houses." He lifted his glass and peered at it intently before launching into the description he'd been given by their resident mixologist, "There’s brandy, which is bold and carries a bit of heat, and represents Gryffindor. A splash of apricot rum, which is warm and sweet, for Hufflepuff. Some champagne to add some lightness and intrigue, in honor of Ravenclaw. And a measure of vodka, which is completely undetectable amidst the other flavors, sneaky, like Slytherin. She’s also added some soda water, and blackberry syrup because she wanted a color not associated with any of the houses.”

His recitation was met with impressed glances and tentative sips of the proffered mixture. The taste was smooth, with the barest hint of fire at the end, though still light and sweet enough to keep from overwhelming even the most timid drinkers in the crowd.

“Fantastic,” Blaise stated and three heads nodded in agreement.

“Are the bubbles charmed?” Hermione was poking at one with her finger, and though it popped, another took its place right after.

“I think so,” Draco nodded, “But completely edible.”

Theo had been unusually silent for several minutes and finally spoke up, though with none of his early bravado. He addressed Hermione specifically.

“Can I ask what Luna said about me?” His voice was low, his shoulders hunched like he was bracing for something, his eyes wary.

Hermione was surprised by the change in his demeanor and wanted to set him back to rights at once, “Of course! She talked about how much she was looking forward to coming here with you this weekend, and how she was positive you’d be a wonderful dance partner.” She paused for a moment as if considering something before she continued, “I do feel the need to warn you, though, that Luna has a dance style that’s completely…. unique.”

Theo’s visage had softened and a small smile tugged at his mouth, “I’m not worried about that.”

She nodded and continued, “She also told us, Ginny and me, that you’ve been spending quite a bit of time together of late, and that she hopes to continue doing so. She mentioned something about auras and soul colors, and that she was certain this weekend would give your magical cores a chance to intertwine, which she’s been waiting for since,” but at that moment Theo shot up out of his chair, looking wildly around the room in search of something.

“What’s the matter, mate?” Blaise asked his friend, obviously concerned.

“You’re sure she said that?” Theo turned his attention back to Hermione, a jittery anticipation thrumming through him, “The thing about the magical cores? She’s been waiting for that?”

Hermione nodded, completely baffled, and that only increased when Theo gently squished her cheeks between his palms and planted a loud kiss on her forehead before issuing a rushed “ _thank you_ ” and bolting off, presumably to find the ethereal blonde they’d just been discussing.

The remaining trio looked at each other in stunned confusion for a beat before bursting into hearty laughter. Whatever that had been about, it was apparently something that mattered greatly to Theo and they were sure they’d hear all about it later.

ooOoo

The evening wound down and everyone drifted off to their rooms. Draco walked Hermione to her door where they engaged in a very nice, though rather mild snog session before saying goodnight, fully aware of their less-than-private setting. Hermione got ready for bed and wondered briefly when Luna might come in, and decided to leave a bowl of bluebell flames next to the other bed so her friend wouldn’t have to stumble around in the dark. She settled into the crisp, clean bedding, happy to be in her beloved school again, very much looking forward to the next day, and fell asleep almost at once with a smile on her face.

Draco and Blaise stayed up a bit later, however, catching up on whatever had kept them occupied since they’d seen each the previous Friday, and speculating on where Theo might have gone off to, their suppositions growing wilder as the night wore on. Eventually, they too drifted off into a restful slumber.

What seemed like mere minutes later, but was really the next morning, Hermione woke to the sound of the door opening and found Luna entering the room as quietly as possible, clearly not wanting to disturb the other witch.

“What time is it?” Hermione asked groggily and Luna started, not realizing she was already awake.

“Oh, Hermione, I’m so sorry! Did I wake you?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s morning already?”

“Yes, it’s half-past eight and the Kitchen Elves are already setting breakfast out. That’s what woke us up. It smells delicious!”

“Oh wow, I never sleep this late,” Hermione groaned and stretched and considered Luna’s words. “Wait, woke _us_ up? Who’s _us_?” Though she already had a pretty good idea, she couldn’t help prodding her fairy-like companion, who was beaming at her with slightly flushed cheeks.

“Theo, of course. He sought me out last night while we were all mingling around and asked if I’d like to go for a walk. Obviously I agreed, since it was the perfect time to look for Humdingers and Fireflies.”

“Of course,” Hermione agreed indulgently, pushing herself into a sitting position and watching as Luna dug through her luggage, pulling out random things while chatting away.

“We walked the whole perimeter of the Black Lake, though we only saw on Humdinger and he looked rather off-course, but the Fireflies were out in full force and we watched them for quite some time,” she paused here, a faraway look on her face as she stared at nothing in particular. “By the time we got back to the castle, almost everyone had gone to their rooms and he asked me if I’d like to stay with him. I knew we’d get there, of course, but I still wanted to let him ask.”

Hermione thought about this for a second, “Wasn’t Theo rooming with Blaise and Draco?”

“Originally, yes, but there were several rooms still available, so we just took one of those,” she shrugged and smiled, “It was lovely. Theo insisted on transfiguring the two single beds to one large one, and conjured lots of candles for the dresser and nightstands. He was very sweet.” Luna gave a dreamy sigh and Hermione felt a slight heat spread through her at the thought of spending that kind of time with Draco. She was brought out of her reverie by the other witch asking if she was coming to breakfast, which she insisted she was, and thus dragged herself out of bed, excited to start the day.

Over heaping plates of pancakes and bacon, bowls of porridge, and slices of fruit, plans were made for a picnic by the lake and a friendly Quidditch match that afternoon. The weather was still sunny and unusually warm for mid-September in the Scottish highlands, and everyone decided it should be taken advantage of. Draco was happy to let himself be led around by Hermione as she gathered supplies, chatted with friends, and delegated tasks. While a handful of alumni stayed intentionally away (like Cormac, Michael, and several other disgruntled blokes who’d been hoping to turn the Golden Girl’s head), most were more than pleasant and seemed genuinely interested in talking with him. As the day wore on, he realized he quite liked when people clued in to the fact that he and Hermione were “ _together_ ” and thoroughly enjoyed the feeling that zinged through him when someone approached, asking him if he knew where she might be because they had a question about where the picnic blankets should go, or if they would need more butterbeer. The fact that they identified him as the person who would be most likely to have that information gave him a smug sort of pride and put more than a little bounce in his step.

As the former classmates gathered at the pitch, teams were formed with extra players, so as to give everyone interested a chance. They drew straws to see who would play for each side, and wound up with nicely balanced sets. Draco was asked to play Seeker, which thrilled him to no end, though he played it off with a shrug, and gave a sportsmanlike nod to Harry who would be playing the same position opposite him. Those who had no desire to play filed into the stands to cheer their friends, coworkers, partners, and significant others on. The whistle blew and they were off.

Zooming around in the warm autumn air, he let his mind wander as his teammates and opponents settled into formation. Oh, to be back in his younger years, flying for his house team, before the war and the horrors it had brought. What might it have been like to have Hermione as his girlfriend (for that was most definitely how he thought of her now), back then? Realistically, turning back the clock would not have afforded him that chance, since they’d been rivals from the moment they boarded the train, but in another lifetime, perhaps… He refused to let the shadows of his past weigh him down any longer, though, and sought out his beautiful witch in the sea of happy, excited faces.

Just as his eyes landed on her, Cormac McLaggen whizzed by. He happened to be playing Beater on Draco’s team, but that didn’t stop him from taunting the pale blonde.

“I’m waiting for her to get tired of you, Malfoy. Shouldn’t take too long,” he jeered as he sped off towards the other end.

His old insecurities rose up, giving credence to the burly git’s words, but then he glanced down again and his vision honed in on a halo of mahogany curls and a pair of deep brown eyes that were fixed on him. She smiled and waved and his heart skipped a beat. He was _not_ going to wallow in self-doubt anymore where Hermione was concerned. He had promised her he would do better about this, and he meant to keep that promise. She had agreed to attend this weekend with _him_ ; had accepted a family heirloom as a token of his affection; had spent virtually all her free time with him since they boarded the Hogwarts Express. That counted for something, and McLaggen could sod off.

Spirits lifted and resolve steeled, Draco flew better than he had in years. With evenly matched sides, the game was close and goals were scored and blocked at both ends repeatedly. Everyone knew there was a time limit to the game, since they all had to get ready for the main event that night, so as time ticked by, the need to find the snitch grew exponentially. The Chosen One and the Slytherin Prince stalked each other’s movements while keeping one eye out of the elusive golden ball, dodging and feinting, trying to guess the next move.

Harry had just made an abrupt about-face less than a broomstick’s length ahead of Draco, who watched him carefully without changing course. This wasn’t the first time this maneuver had been used, and he had a sneaking suspicion it was simply a diversion again. His pewter gaze darted about and he’d almost turned around to follow his opponent when he saw it. The snitch was hovering over an empty section of the stands, camouflaged by the Gryffindor banner hanging behind it. Not wanting to draw attention to his target, Draco made a few lazy circles, inching closer and closer with each pass, and sinking lower until he was below the fluttering sphere.

In a flash, he shot upwards just as Harry noticed what he was doing and hurtled at him at top speed, but he was too far away to have any sort of chance of reaching it first. Draco’s fingers closed around the metal ball, its wings still fluttering as fast as his heartbeat. He’d done it. For the first time ever, he’d played Seeker against Harry Potter and _won_.

The small crowd went wild, and his team gathered around to celebrate. Even McLaggen grudgingly told him he’d pulled it off, but the best part was Hermione barreling towards him across the pitch, jumping into his arms and kissing him senseless amidst the excited and raucous gang surrounding them. Wolf whistles and teasing remarks finally broke through their bubble of bliss and he reluctantly set her down on her feet, though he couldn’t have peeled the grin off his face if he’d tried.

ooOoo

Showered, dressed, and pacing in front of the large oaken doors to the Room was where Draco and Theo were found two hours later. Both of them had arranged to meet their dates there, so they could walk down to the Great Hall together. They observed other couples head out as they waited: Harry and Ginny, Ron and Katie, Neville and Hannah; all of whom were dressed splendidly and looked like something out of a fashion magazine. Blaise joined them for a moment before Daphne appeared and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. Two pairs of eyebrows shot up into their respective fringes as Blaise flashed them a wicked smirk before escorting his apparent date out the door.

Pansy appeared a short while later in a puffy white gown that seemed a tad overstated, even for her, and obviously made Ernie Macmillan, her long-time boyfriend, more than a little nervous with its not-so-subtle message. The red-faced, stammering wizard ran a trembling hand across his sweaty forehead before throwing the observing young men a helpless, pleading look as his date dragged him out to the corridor. Once they were sure he was out of earshot, Draco and Theo burst into laughter.

“Oh, the poor sod,” Theo wheezed.

“I almost feel sorry for him,” Draco agreed, “But surely by now he knows what she’s like!”

They continued to snigger until their attention was drawn to the opening of another door, and this time, the reason they’d been kept waiting appeared. Luna floated over on a cloud of glittering lilac and Theo audibly gulped at the sight. Draco knew his friend was complimenting the airy blonde, but he couldn’t distinguish any words over the pounding of his heart and the blood rushing through his veins.

Hermione was an absolute vision in emerald. The gown fit her like a second skin, accentuating every dip and curve while still remaining elegant and refined. Her hair was pulled away from her face, but her curls tumbled down her back, and several had been allowed to spring free around her temples and ears. The necklace he’d given her lay perfectly between her collarbone and the neckline of her dress, and the low heels she was wearing still allowed the material to pool about her feet like a modest train. He didn’t think he’d ever laid eyes on anything so lovely in his life, and wasn’t sure he could find the words to tell her so.

“You are… breathtaking,” he finally managed to rasp out as he took her hands in his and she positively glowed.

“You clean up pretty good yourself,” she teased as she arched up and kissed him lightly. He felt like his head was swimming and had to shake it to clear the fog that had descended upon him.

“Shall we go?” Theo piped up from nearby and both witches indicated that yes, it was time to head down.

The Great Hall was resplendent. It had been turned into a grand ballroom, filled with white linen-covered tables, cut crystal goblets, flowering centerpieces, and thousands of candles casting a magical, flickering glow over the entire space. A string quartet could be heard over the buzz of conversation as guests mingled and enjoyed the appetizers floating around on silver trays. Seats were not assigned, but as expected, the youngest members of the party chose to stick together and Draco soon found himself at a table with Harry and Ginny, Neville and Hannah, and George and Angelina. Taking a quick look around, he spotted his mother seated with his aunt, Molly and Arthur, Xenophilius Lovegood, the Clearwaters, and Abeforth Dumbledore. Chuckling at the eclectic group, he turned his attention back to the stunning witch at his side and settled in to enjoy the evening. A multi-course meal was served, speeches were given, special guests recognized, and then it was time for dancing.

Draco hadn’t danced with Hermione since the first Friday they’d connected at the Leaky, though he’d thought about that moment on an almost-daily basis since. The music floating through the air on this night was a far cry from the bass-driven measures blasted in the pub, but it sent a buzz of energy through him nonetheless, and a desire to hold her and be close to her. He waited until she was done chatting with Angelina before standing and offering his hand, a gesture that earned him a delighted smile as she took it and followed him out to the middle of the floor.

Hundreds of witches and wizards milled about, some dancing, some talking, many still sitting at their tables, other flitting from one group to the next, but he only had eyes for her. In the back of his mind, he noted that this was the biggest crowd he’d been in and the longest social function he’d attended in years. Anyone who was connected with the Final Battle, the rebuilding of the school, or the progress and improvements that had been made in all corners of Wizarding Britain in the years since it reopened was in attendance. He realized that ten years ago, he would have considered himself better than all of them. Five years ago, he wouldn’t have been invited, nor would he have had the guts to show his face if he had been. But now? It was mildly nerve-wracking, he could admit that, but the reception he’d received from his peers and the other guests had been bolstering, and the fact that everyone could clearly see he was there with the one and only Golden Girl gave him a bit more of a solid footing.

He realized he’d been staring at her, and also that she’d apparently said something due to the way her brow was arched and her mouth curved in a teasing smirk.

“I’m sorry,” Draco shook his head and gave her a lopsided grin, “You were saying?”

She giggled and wound her arm up around his neck, her fingers grazing his scalp in a way that made his eyelids flutter, “I was saying there’s a reporter circling the crowd. Perhaps it’s time for another one of our photo ops?” The wicked gleam in her eye was the only warning he got before her lips were on his. It was a soft whisper of a kiss, something onlookers would think was sweet or even innocent, but she knew exactly what she was doing and the fire she was stoking in him. She ghosted her lips against his once, twice, and by the third time he was positive he’d been completely liquefied.

She pulled back and peered at him through her long, dark lashes, “I’ll bet that makes the front page, too.”

He let out a sound that was half laugh, half groan. This witch was going to be the end of him and he didn’t care who was watching when he leaned in and captured her mouth in a kiss much less demure than hers had been. He forced himself to break it off before he completely forgot his surroundings and threw her a devilish smirk.

“Maybe that will, too.”

She gave a low chuckle and melted into him as they swayed in a small circle. Godric, this felt right. Just like they had talked about last week, he felt like this was the way it had always been between them. A tiny piercing ache in his heart mourned the years they’d wasted, but he refused to dwell on their past. This could be their future – _she_ could be his future. A longing for that very thing welled up inside him to an overwhelming degree, and he knew he couldn’t wait another second before making sure she knew exactly how he felt, before solidifying something between them.

His heart was galloping away like a mad Centaur as he spoke, “Care to step outside for a minute?” He kept his voice low and calm, but his insides felt like a swarm of Pixies had just taken flight. Hermione happily agreed and let him lead her off the dance floor, through the crowded Great Hall, and out to the courtyard across the corridor.

The moon was bright and the stars clearly visible in the cloudless sky as they sank down side by side on one of the stone benches. He interlaced his fingers with hers and traced circles on the back of her hand as he tried to marshal his thoughts. Unwelcome arrows of doubt kept pricking his resolve, but he mentally batted them away like annoying flies. He knew what he wanted, he just hoped she felt the same. Sucking in a deep, fortifying breath, he turned to face her more fully.

“Hermione, I know we’ve only just started this,” he gestured between them and was relieved when she nodded and smiled at him in response, “But like you were saying last week, it feels like longer. I feel like you’ve always been there, and maybe in some cosmic, fated way you have been, but there is a connection to you I can’t explain… a pull to you I can’t deny.” The words started tumbling out faster and he wasn’t even sure of what he was saying anymore, only that he had to get it out, “I’ve never felt like this before; like someone was made for me the way you are; like something was missing until you came along. I love every moment I get to spend with you, and I miss you when you’re gone, even if you’ve just stepped into the next room.”

She huffed a tiny laugh and her sparkling eyes continued to watch him closely as he went on, “I know it’s probably way too soon to talk about anything serious, but we can take things as slowly as you want to. I’ll wait forever and a day for you, so long as I know that day will eventually come.” He paused and inhaled sharply before blurting out the rest, “You’re it for me, Hermione. You’ve completely ruined me in the most amazing way possible and I will never want anyone else, will never love anyone else, the way I do you. I only hope that maybe one day, you’ll feel the same.”

There. He’d done it. He’d said all the things and now it was up to her. She had the power to crush him or make him the happiest man alive and he warred with himself between fear and anticipation as he dropped his gaze to the hand he was still holding. A second or two went by before she reached her other hand up to caress the side of his face, gently turning it to meet her gaze. Her expressive brown eyes were swirling with bright emotions he didn’t dare name, though they were glassy and a few tears were clinging to her lashes.

“Not one day,” she whispered and his brow furrowed in confusion. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his for a heartbeat before pulling back and pinning him with a watery but fierce look, “You don’t have to wait for it to happen one day. I already love you _now_.”

It took a moment for her words to sink in and take root, but when they did, Draco thought his heart might just explode. He gathered her to him in a crushing embrace, burying his face in her curls and wrapping his arms around her as tightly as possible. When his pulse calmed from the dizzying sprint it had just taken off in, he loosened his grip just enough to pepper kisses up her jaw, across her cheeks, from one side of her face to the other, earning himself another giggle, before he rested his forehead against hers.

“Are you sure?” he had to ask.

“Absolutely,” her reply was firm and immediate.

He kissed her then, putting all his hopes and fears, promises and intentions into it, knowing that she understood. His fingers sank into her curls and her hands trailed up his back and across his shoulders as their lips and tongues spoke wordlessly of the depth of their affection for one another. After several blissful minutes, they came up for air and Hermione smirked impishly at him as she brushed his fringe off his forehead.

“Know what else I’m sure about?” she asked, and the fire he saw in her eyes settled deep in his core.

“What?” he whispered.

“That Luna was right about this being the perfect time for magical cores to intertwine.” With that, she stood and smoothed her dress before extending her hand to him. He stared at it, then up at her, then back at her hand as his brain tried to connect the dots. The moment it did, he was on his feet, tugging her back into the castle. They were both laughing outright, not caring who saw them as they all but sprinted up the many flights of stairs and down the long corridor. When they reached the Room, he let her take the lead and followed her to her chamber. Finally, after an impressive bit of magic or two, he set about giving her exactly what she wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! So this one took a little longer to finish up than I anticipated, but hopefully it was worth the wait :) Thanks so much for reading and for loving D&H as much as I do! If you would like to see the necklace described in this chapter, it can be found here:  
> https://www.effyjewelry.com/products/effy-brasilica-14k-yellow-gold-emerald-diamond-filigree-pendant-1-62-tcw  
> Also, I would love for you to check out my other stories if you've got the time! <3

**Author's Note:**

> All right, y'all, this one was way too long to put in the Country Magic Series (but please go check that out if you haven't already!) It's going to have three chapters, and they'll all be posted by next week. I gave Theo and Blaise a bit more of the spotlight in this one and I think they're rather hilarious. There's a little bit more drama coming up than in most of my o/s, but it's still a fluffy ball of nonsense in the end :) Thank you so much for reading!!


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